


Keep the Fire Burning Bright

by The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Gaslighting, Light Angst, M/M, Manipulative!Rick, Mushrooms, Mycophobia, Oblivious!Morty, Orgasm Delay/Denial, dream inception, it works out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: Honestly, he was doing the boy a favor. And if his reasons for controlling Morty's dreams weren't entirely altruistic? Well, Rick thought, nobody really needed to know anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, folks! After slaving away over a keyboard for hours and hours in preparation for this, I'm extremely proud to present the first chapter for one of my two submissions to the Rick and Morty Big Bang Collection! It's not my usual style, in both content matter and the written POV, but the challenge was a welcome one and I'm incredibly pleased with how it turned out. I'm doing this project with two fantastic artists, RickxoxoMorty and NaughtyOrganic, both of whom can be found on Tumblr at these two URLs: https://rickxoxomorty.tumblr.com and https://naughtyorganic.tumblr.com. I'll be providing additional links to both of their blogs (as well as to their respective art pieces after the Collection has closed on the 11th) in the notes at the bottom of the chapter. 
> 
> I'd like to take a second to thank all the people that encouraged me and gave me the solid criticism I needed to make this story the best that it could be and I'd like to dedicate it in its entirety to the stunning woman that made all of this possible. KlaxAddict, the fandom is beyond lucky to have you and our community wouldn't be the same if you were gone. Thank you for bringing this traditional fandom challenge to our neck of the woods and opening it to all of us. Couldn't have done it without you, Daddy. 
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Clair

It had to be Jerry. 

There were no guarantees that his moron of a son-in-law was the one to trip the alarm, it could've been anyone — or _anything_ Rick reminded himself — but the whole thing had a _Jerry-esque_ feel to it. He'd only been gone about five minutes before the alarm went off and that shit just _screamed_ Smith family idiot. He was probably poking his nose somewhere that didn't concern him, balls deep in a pursuit of the infamous "weed whacker," if Rick had to guess. Even though he knew for a goddamn fact his daughter put the thing in the trunk of her car for easy access after what'd been vaguely labeled, 'the underground bunker incident.' He still hadn't found the slimy piece of shit alien that escaped, all thanks to Jerry and his fucking weed whacker. The thought of his son-in-law messing with even more of his stuff had Rick on the edge of grinding his teeth.

He had much more important stuff to do than roast his daughter's idiot for getting into his projects and Rick was tempted to just leave it alone until later but he still forced himself to portal back home and check it out anyway. He wouldn't have wired alarms into the garage and the locking mechanisms of his ship if he didn't believe they were necessary in the long run and, unfortunately, that meant that he had to take every alert seriously. At least until he put up new cameras.

It was probably Jerry, it was almost _always_ Jerry, occasionally Beth or one of the kids, but Rick wasn't about to take the chance that it might _not_ be one of them simply because he didn't want to deal with it. Laziness, while something Rick could appreciate, wasn't going to be the reason he got robbed blind by some asshole with a grudge. Paranoia wasn't paranoia if someone really was trying to kill you. Or rob you. _Or_ turn you in to the Galactic Government for a massive payday. And Rick knew for certain that he probably had more people trying to snuff him out than any other sentient being on this side of the multiverse.

So, back to the Smith house it was.

Rick scowled, already pissed off at the loser his daughter married, and took a quick swig from his flask before tucking it away and pressing a button on the side of his watch. He shuddered at the pulse of energy that swept through his body. The shift of atoms from one plane of existence to another, no matter how subtle, was always vaguely unpleasant but he'd experienced worse and, as Rick walked through the garage door as though it weren't even there, he smirked to himself. Fuck Wolfgang Pauli and his exclusion principle. If he wanted two atoms to occupy the same space, he'd damn well make them.

Years of stealth missions built on experience and a fucked up foundation of learned silence from his childhood kept Rick's footsteps quiet and unnoticed as he entered the garage. He didn't want to startle whoever was messing with his shit — _Jerry_ — but Rick frowned when he was met with an unexpectedly empty garage. No Jerry, no Beth, no unnamed alien, no other version of himself bent over his desk or rifling through his shelves. Just his ship. The garage appeared, for all intents and purposes, empty.

It wasn't out of the question. His daughter could've simply come in to get laundry, or maybe Morty came looking for him. It could've been anything, really, and Rick sighed to himself. Maybe he _was_ getting paranoid in his old age.

Rick turned to leave, fully intent on portaling right back to the sigma quadrant in search of more potent kollaxian crystal when a muffled noise drew his attention. Irritation grated on the older man's nerves. He had better shit to do than deal with trespassers, especially ones that were most likely part of his stupid family, and Rick took two large steps forward with the intention of calling them the fuck out only to stop short when he was met with the most unexpected sight.

Morty was masturbating. In his ship.

Rick really shouldn't have been surprised. The horny little shit beat off fucking everywhere and he'd accidentally walked in on it more than once, but Rick was still taken off guard by the sight.

Normally if he walked in on Morty trying to get off, his grandson immediately freaked out and tried to cover himself as fast as possible, stammering out embarrassed apologies riddled with stutters, but Morty hadn't noticed him yet. The boy was in his own world, partially reclined in the driver's seat with a hand between his legs, jerking off with the fast paced lack of finesse that came with being young and inexperienced.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Rick's mind when he thought about having to disinfect the ship later, none to keen on the idea of sitting in Morty's jizz, but it wasn't enough to make him take action. Instead, he stood there quietly and watched.

Despite being well aware of just how common it was for Ricks to fuck their Mortys, he'd never really been interested. It seemed like more work than it was worth, having to guide Morty's little virgin ass through everything and deal with the clingy, sentimental bullshit that came after, but that didn't make Rick any less intrigued. He'd seen Morty in a multitude of different states over the course of their time together. He'd seen the boy furious and ready to throw down, face twisted in an ugly scowl that reminded him too much of himself. He'd seen him twitching and unable to control his own body after being subjected to one too many experiments, nervous and stuttering when he was embarrassed about something, happy and more than a little annoying when he was excited. He'd seen him focused, he'd seen him sad, he'd seen Morty express just about every emotion the teen was capable of experiencing, but he'd never seen _this._

Of course, seeing his grandson getting off was arguably something Rick, as his grandfather, _shouldn't_ see, but Rick never claimed to be any sort of saint and the view was interesting enough to keep him invested.

Rick crept around to the other side of the ship and peered into the glass dome from just behind the passenger's seat. Morty had an arm thrown across his eyes, blocking everything out as his other hand flew up and down his shaft. Rick would've thought that, with as much experience as the kid had with getting himself off, he'd know how to do it better, but Rick also knew that Morty was in a fairly risky situation and that anyone could walk in and see him at any time. Obviously.

It made him wonder how Morty normally looked when he jerked off. Did he take his time? Did he roll his balls in his palm? Tease the slick head of his dick until he was so sensitive that even his own hand felt like the best thing in the world? Did Morty touch other parts of his body? His nipples? His ass?

It wasn't any of his business, truly, but Rick's inner scientist bristled at the lack of data, no matter how ridiculous and unnecessary it really was.

He continued to watch the boy with a detached sense of interest, cataloguing the various expressions his grandson made. The whole thing reeked of perversion. If there'd been even a single shred of morality left in his decrepit heart, Rick would've left the moment he realized what was going on, but there wasn't, and he hadn't. A small portion of him felt like he should leave now, having witnessed this side of Morty long enough to add it to his mental lexicon of the boy he called his companion, but, to Rick's surprise, he wanted to see it through.

He wanted to see what Morty looked like when he came, for better or for worse, and _then_ he'd leave. It felt like a waste to observe and abandon ship before the most interesting portion of the experience, so Rick stuck around. He leaned back against his workbench, arms crossed over his chest, and continued to study Morty as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge. It didn't take more than two additional minutes for Morty to reach completion, gasping loud enough to be heard outside the dome when he finally came all over his own hand, and Rick nodded to himself when Morty slumped back against the ship's seat, boneless and sated from his orgasm.

The kid didn't look half bad, all wrung out and blessedly silent. It was a good look for him, Rick thought with a smirk, and he pushed himself away from the bench.

He hadn't taken three steps before a quiet, dreamy voice called out for him and Rick stopped.

A quick glance toward the ship told him that the teen hadn't actually caught sight of him. He was still lying there, limp and relaxed, but Morty was no longer covering his eyes. He must've made a sound then, Rick determined, and Morty was calling out for him as a question to whether or not he was there. Simple.

Rick chastised himself for not being more quiet. It was a rookie mistake, one he'd avoid in the future, but that train of thought did nothing to stop the unexpected flare of want that coursed through him at the sound of his name on Morty's lips.

In a fraction of a second, Rick was bombarded with mental images. Morty, spent and worn out, looking up at him and saying his name in that exact same tone. Morty calling out his name as Rick ruined him from the inside out. Morty whimpering his name when Rick pushed him too far. Morty squirming under his hands, overstimulated and hypersensitive, and mewling out his name as a plea for him to stop.

It wasn't something he'd considered before, wasn't something he'd _wanted,_ but the possessive feelings those imagined moments invoked hit Rick like a slug to the face and he realized, with an internalized groan of annoyance, that he wanted to hear it _again._ He wanted to make Morty moan and plead and whimper like a strung out whore. He wanted to see Morty come crawling to him, on his hands and knees, begging to get fucked, and Rick knew that the desire wasn't going to go away until he'd gotten what he wanted.

Rick crept from the garage, avoiding Morty's detection, and feeling vaguely pissed off as he shot a portal back to the Sigma Quadrant some blocks down the street.

Thinking about wanting Morty was a headache just waiting to happen but, while he'd readily lie to anyone that had the nerve to question him, Rick wasn't in the habit of lying to _himself._ It was a waste of time and, as he was more than familiar, there weren't enough denial fueled benders in the universe to change the truth. Might as well suck it up and do something about it.

Rick sighed. It was an inconvenience, sure, but it was apparently one that he'd have to deal with.

So much for not being one of those Ricks.

 

 

* * *

 

It took less than three weeks to completely reprogram the dream inceptors to suit his needs. Rick could've had it finished in a matter of days, maybe hours if he was feeling particularly ambitious, but he wasn't in any real hurry. Working on the inceptors as a back burner project between adventures gave him time to contemplate, time to map out a strategy and decide on which route was best to take, and Rick was more than fine with that. He never claimed to be an especially patient man, and he often times wasn't, but there was just something so infinitely satisfying about playing the long game from time to time. Rick relished the thrill of instant gratification just as much as the next person, but in this instance, he was content to let it play out as long as it needed to.

Plus, despite being eager to get the ball rolling, Rick still had other shit to do. He was a busy man and even his newfound desire to plow his grandson didn't stop the wheels from turning in other areas of his life.

Still, he gave the project the attention it deserved and, in less than two and a half weeks, he was calling Morty into the garage.

Seeing Morty pop his anxious little head around the door, looking hesitant to enter, had Rick cackling just below the surface. He'd been running Morty ragged lately, dragging them both off to steal just about anything even remotely valuable that wasn't bolted down to the floor, and even some things that were. Rick wasn't surprised that Morty was hesitant to answer his call. The boy hadn't had a good night sleep in days. It was apparent from the dark circles under his eyes and, for whatever reason, that satisfied Rick in some way.

"Wh-what's up, Rick? Are we, uh, are we goin' on another adventure?"

Morty winced at his question, looking rather put out at himself for bringing it up in the first place.

Rick scoffed as though the idea were out of the question and casually dragged his favored barstool between them.

"N- _euuurp_ -not today, Morty. Booster shots. Get your scrawny ass up here a-and roll up your sleeve." Rick said, patting the stool.

Suspicion clouded Morty's vision. Even though it annoyed the hell out of him and brought a frown to his lips, Rick couldn't deny that the little shit had ample reasons to be wary and distrustful of his intentions. He _did_ use the boy for experiments more often than not and he _was_ planning something nefarious, but _Morty_ didn't know that.

"I've already got all my shots," Morty murmured. "Mom said so, and I went in for a — a tetanus booster six months ago." The teen rubbed his arm, most likely where he'd been poked if Rick had to guess, and the nervous smile he offered a second later all but announced itself as a diversion tactic.

Rick merely crossed his arms. He wasn't swayed by the boy's feeble argument.

"And what? You think your little — little MMR, Tdap booster is gonna keep you safe from Synaptic Seepage, _Morty?_ O-or how about Drafa? _Or exploding testicle syndrome, Morty."_

The teen yelped, but Rick had no idea if it was because he was imagining his testicles exploding or because he'd grabbed the boy's arm and hauled him in, forcing his ass down onto the stool. It didn't matter to Rick either way.

He ignored the irritated look Morty sent his way and reached behind him to grab a syringe full of purple liquid off his work bench. Rick held the thing carefully between his teeth as he carelessly rolled Morty's shirt sleeve up and out of the way. Morty was looking at him with blatant uncertainty and, even before the little shit opened his mouth, Rick could've guessed what he was going to say.

"Oh jeez, Rick," Morty said, trying not to squirm on the stool. "I don't know about this."

Rick rolled his eyes at his grandson's predictability. Even though he knew he was being ridiculous and there wasn't any way Morty would understand the value of what he was talking about, a new layer of annoyance was added onto the first. It pissed him off that Morty was so naive sometimes and Rick wasn't shy about voicing that.

"I know you don't." Rick said gruffly. He jabbed Morty in the upper arm with the needle and ignored the startled cry that followed as he pushed the plunger. "You don't _—euuurp—_ you don't know shit about space, Morty."

The teen looked offended by that but Rick didn't give him the opportunity to speak up.

"Space is _filthy,_ Morty. Viruses and shit aren't just an Earth thing. Every planet has its own version of AIDs and the Black Plague a-a-and — and fuckin', Ebola or some shit, Morty. Your stupid ass pisses me off but I'm not trying to have you drag Hepatitis V back home to share with the family. Didn't you learn _anything_ from the thing with the brain parasites?"

Morty looked like he was at a loss as he shook his head but Rick just rolled his eyes and stuck him a second time, injecting another dose of alien vaccines into his system.

"Happens here on Earth all the time, Morty." Rick continued. "Colonists brought all sorts of nasty shit with them when they went to other countries. Measles and smallpox and the flu. New germs, Morty. You ever go to a new school, get sick in the first month? Same thing."

"These shots are for you as much as they are the sorry fucks we run into. How'd your morally upstanding ass feel if we wiped out an entire planet with the common cold, Morty?" The boy looked up in alarm, stricken by the idea of doing something so heinous without even knowing it, and Rick gave his ridiculously pure grandson a flat, unimpressed look. "Luckily I'm a genius and not enough of an asshole to let you fuck up every planet we go to. Now shut up and let me poke you."

Morty's bottom lip was quivering and he nodded in agreement, looking down at the cement floor as Rick loaded up the last shot. It was a big one, the contents of the syringe full of thick, orange liquid that required a bigger needle, and as Rick stared at his grandson, he took a moment to wonder if he had a heart.

As a scientist, he knew the answer was an obvious yes. He could feel it pounding away inside his head each time he woke up hungover but, as a human thinking in terms of metaphor— which Rick was usually too drunk or too dismissive of pointless bullshit to even consider doing —he really couldn't say whether his heart was all that real or not.

If the thing was in there, it had to be buried deep. It was most likely hidden under black hole levels of compressing darkness, the suppression of his fluffier emotions aided by alcohol and the sort of jaded cynicism very few people could handle possessing. Regardless of the metaphor he used, Rick knew what he had wasn't a heart. Certainly not one that functioned as it should anyway.

If the thing would've been even remotely salvageable, Rick might've felt sorry for the foolishly trusting creature that was his grandson as he buried the hypodermic needle into the side of Morty's neck.

The boy froze, gaping like a fish with wide, panicked eyes, but Rick didn't try and comfort him. He just injected the mortified inceptor somewhere between his fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae and pulled the needle out, smooth as could be, to replace it with a cotton ball.

Easy peasy.

Morty looked somewhat dazed as Rick held the little ball of cotton to his neck, eyes glassy and unfocused, swaying almost drunkenly on his seat. Rick wasn't surprised. He'd added a little something extra to the first booster he'd given the teen and, in all likelihood, it was probably kicking in about now. Rick doubted Morty would remember much of their encounter when the medication finally wore off.

Frigarian Opium was a hell of a drug.

It couldn't be avoided though. The placement of the inceptor was temporary at best. With the use of the organic liquid he'd injected it with, the device would slowly make its way closer and closer to Morty's brain until it found a good spot to embed itself for good. The process wouldn't take long but it was bound to be painful, not to mention hard to miss, and Rick really didn't feel like dealing with Morty pestering him for answers between lengthy rounds of whiny complaints.

It was better this way. The teen would be in and out of it for a handful of hours. He'd be pain free and high out of his mind, and then he'd come to reality in his bed, none the wiser that anything was wrong. Just like a dream. There was a chance that he'd pop up and ask about what happened, and Rick would inevitably remind him of the shots with as much put-out energy as he could possibly muster, throwing out some half ass explanation about side effects or some shit like that, and everything would be fine. Morty would accept it with a sigh and a couple grumbled out complaints and then he'd go right back to being the over-sharing pain in the ass that Rick knew and mostly put up with.

Honestly, he was doing the boy a favor. And, if his reasons for vaccinating Morty weren't entirely altruistic? Well, he thought, nobody really needed to know anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick was on his best behavior for the next two weeks.

With the inceptor in place and fully operational, he had ample opportunity to push his plans forward but the scientist refrained. It wouldn't do to bring unnecessary suspicion onto himself by toying with it too soon, no matter how unlikely that seemed. There was always a chance that his grandson could put it together if he acted too rashly. The little twerp had a knack for being unusually insightful at the most random times and, despite having back up plans for everything, Rick _really_ didn't want to deal with that disaster in the making.

So he waited.

He tested the newly remodeled inceptor a single time to make sure the thing actually worked, making his grandson dream about giraffes at Blips and Chitz, and then he left it alone. Morty was none the wiser and the smug pride that curled in Rick's chest over the successful trial run was enough to keep him sated.

To keep himself busy, Rick simply continued on with his previous trend of dragging Morty out on more adventures than strictly necessary and running them both ragged. Because of that, Rick was currently wedged in a tiny abandoned chemical container with Morty some four buildings down from the place they'd just robbed.

They hadn't taken anything important. It was just some money and a handful of Shmoopie Doop diamonds from a shady strip joint on one of the planet's outer moons, nothing too fancy, but the owner was pissed and, unfortunately, he wasn't altogether clueless about the person that robbed him. They'd interacted enough times for the alien to at least realize that the green doorways produced by Rick's portal gun were his main method of escape and, during the initial struggle, the creature managed to get in a somewhat decent shot.

There was a crack in the glass dome surrounding the crystallized xanthanite atom he used to power his portal gun. The thing was leaking portal fluid and, even with all the random shit he kept in his pockets for emergencies, Rick didn't have the necessary tools to fix it.

The scientist swore, causing Morty to appear even more nervous than before, and stuffed the malfunctioning gun into a sealed, airtight bag for the time being.

"We gotta get to the ship and get off this rock, Morty. My portal gun is toast for now "

Panic lined the boy's features. "How are we gonna do that Rick! Th-th-there's guards and those slimy dog things and we left your ship outside the place we robbed!"

A sudden garbled out bark from a few meters away caused Rick to curse once more and, without really thinking, he grabbed Morty and spun them both away from the locker door. He had a hand over the teen's mouth to keep him absolutely silent and Morty's back was pressed so tightly against his chest that Rick could've swore he could felt Morty's heart pounding through their clothes. It wasn't much protection but his lab coat was coated in a solution that kept it from holding onto any sort of scent. He'd been meaning to soak the rest of his clothes in it but he still hadn't gotten around to it and Rick was now cursing himself for that too. With the amount of strippers that'd rubbed themselves all over the both of them, Rick highly doubted that his coat would be enough to protect them.

Flibbledrogs weren't all that clever but they had an incredible sense of smell. In all likelihood they'd already heard Morty so the stupid creatures had to be somewhere close, sniffing them out with every passing second.

As if he and Morty were on the same wavelength, the brunet started to tremble in Rick's grasp the moment he came to the conclusion that they were currently fucked. He could feel the sweat from Morty's temples trickling down the teen's face to pool against his own fingers. He was still shaking but Rick didn't think it had to do with fear alone. It was the excess adrenaline pouring through his grandson's system, the fear of being caught and killed taking over and sending burst after burst of adrenaline through his body, increasing his blood flow and preparing muscles for exertion to the point where he couldn't help but shake. Morty's muscles were tight and ready to spring where they were pressed up against Rick, and for a brief moment Rick imagined the situation in a completely different way.

A sinister smile curled Rick's lips. Even though he had absolutely no intention of dying over money and a handful of diamonds on some crappy moon, he now found he had even more of a reason to make it out alive. Inspiration, it seemed, could be just as much of a motivator as necessity.

"Okay, Morty," Rick breathed, relishing the little shiver that raced down his grandson's spine as he whispered in his ear. His sinister smile just got that much wider. "When I give the signal? Run like hell. Whoever gets to the ship first, wins."

Rick held Morty close for another moment longer, straining his senses outward to try and figure out what sort of situation they'd be leaping into but it wasn't much help. He could hear the dogs getting closer. Their masters wouldn't be too far behind and Rick knew that if they wanted any real fighting chance, they'd have to go now.

In a flurry of motion, Rick released the teen and spun away from him. He kicked the locker door open with more force than necessary and laughed when he heard a whimper of pain as metal met soft, gooey flesh.

"And awaaaaay we go, Morty!" Rick called as he leapt from the tiny space, kicking and swinging at anything even remotely canine shaped.

They'd been nearly surrounded. At least six Flibbledrogs were crouched around their shitty hiding spot, their purple, dripping muzzles pulled back to reveal rows and rows of sharp, glistening white teeth, but the creatures were taken by surprise by the commotion. There was a brief window of disorganized confusion and the two took complete advantage of it, racing away from their would-be captors at the speed of light. Or at least close to it.

The resounding chaos that followed reminded Rick of rats loose in a lab. They were all running, chasing and being chased, darting around corners and desperately trying to avoid dead ends as they dodged attacks and leapt over lunging dogs. It was a fucking mess, that's what it was, but Morty was keeping up well enough and Rick was eternally fucking grateful. Having to rescue the boy or deal with him being brought back and used as leverage sounded like the worst sort of annoyance and Rick was glad his companion was at least somewhat competent in high stress situations.

A startled yelp from Morty and the shrill sound of a plasma bolt slicing through the air alerted Rick to the fact that a series of more complicated obstacles had just popped up somewhere behind them. Apparently the goons Doc sent their way had finally caught up with their dogs. Which, though not especially _great_ news, wasn't a total deal-breaker for their escape plan.

He called a warning over his shoulder to Morty, as well as a hastily thrown out order to pull a 9 o'clock at the next wall, and simply pushed himself faster, ducking and dodging the hailstorm of gunfire as best as he could.

Both humans skidded around the corner without issue and suddenly Morty wasn't behind him anymore. They were running side-by-side, racing toward the partially camouflaged ship that was now in view, and Rick nearly cheered for both of them before hissing in pain when one of the plasma bolts grazed his arm. Adrenaline kept the pain at bay but Morty still looked at him with concern. His expression was becoming more and more panicked as their persuers started to gain on them.

"Rick!"

"I know! Shut up and keep running!"

The two pushed themselves harder than ever and nearly slammed into the dome of the ship when they finally reached it. Rick was in the process of ripping the poorly crafted locking mechanism from the hood when Morty started screaming in alarm. Rick knew the situation was dire but they wouldn't be going anywhere, including inside the ship, until he disabled whatever garbage the stupid six eyed freak jammed into his hardware.

"Buy me a little time, will ya, Morty!" Rick demanded, ripping out wires and prying metal panels apart with his fingers.

"Fucking how, Rick?!"

"Figure it out!"

Time seemed to still as his dopey companion tried to figure something out and, for a brief moment, Rick actually wondered if they were going to die because Morty lacked imagination.

Like most times, though, Morty's genetic ties to Rick won out and he managed to whip a solution out of his ass like some miracle. A forceful hand shoved itself into Rick's pocket and, even though it pissed him off, he didn't say shit about it. If it saved their asses, he could let it go. When he caught a glimpse of Morty extracting the damaged portal gun from the protective bag, though, Rick nearly abandoned his task to jerk the thing out of Morty's hands.

"What the fuck are you doing, Morty?" He yelled, finally ripping the mechanical force-quit from the mainframe of the ship. "You can't just—"

"Trust me!"

In the current instance, Rick did _not_ trust Morty but he was powerless to do anything but throw down the now useless metal box and watch as Morty aimed the gun and shot it.

Instead of a portal, the damaged tech erupted. Just as Rick knew it would. The crystallized xanthanite exploded, drawing a cry of alarm from Morty, and the resulting pulse wave shot forward and sprayed their charging attackers with portal fluid. Despite being beyond furious about how much more work was now in store for him, Rick still winced at the sound of their screams as they were splattered with green. The highly unbalanced substance was eating through their flesh, sucking in the atoms and ripping pieces of their bodies away in an attempt to draw energy and find stabilization. It was a horrific way to go, one that even Rick was forced to pity. He watched as the remaining thugs fled, unwilling to die even for the promise of money and a higher standing with their Boss.

Rick immediately glared at Morty and snatched the ruined portal gun from his hands.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing, Morty!"

Instantaneous offense settled across the teen's features and his face flushed red with anger.

"I was saving both of our asses, that's what!"

"By destroying my fucking portal gun?!" Morty looked minorly ashamed of that, even through his stubborn determination not to take all the blame, and it just made Rick that much angrier. "Do you have any idea how long it's gonna take me to fix this shit, Morty? Do you!"

"I couldn't think of anything else! And so what? We're alive, aren't we!" Morty indignantly replied.

Rick grit his teeth and wrenched open the ship door.

"Get in, Morty."

"But—"

"Get in the fucking ship, Morty!"

With his tail tucked between his legs, Morty quietly followed Rick's orders and got in the ship, wincing when Rick slammed the door behind him. Rick didn't give a shit though. His xanthanite atom was destroyed and recreating another one was going to be a bitch and a half. Not to mention having to remake all the portal fluid. The entire inside of the box had to be tainted and none of its parts would be salvageable. He honestly wouldn't have been surprised if the self destruct activated on its own and blew up their ship on the way home.

Rick clenched his jaw.

The only saving grace, and the only thing keeping him from whooping Morty's ass, was the fact that they were still in their own dimension and therefore capable of getting home on their own. If he would've had to call another Rick for assistance he would've shot Morty in the fucking face right here, right now, and used that stupid coupon the kid was always whining about.

Rick wiped a tired hand down his face.

The little shit was just doing as he was told, saving their asses, just like Morty said, but _fuck._ A man's portal gun was his baby, more important than any car or even a child, and knowing that Morty willingly aided in its destruction, no matter how unknowingly, made Rick want to beat the snot out of his grandson.

There wouldn't be any more adventures for a while. Not for two and a half months _at least._ They still had the ship and they could go to a number of destinations but a quick getaway or more extravagant adventures were completely out of the question until his portal gun was back up and running.

Rick stared into the ship from behind, glaring at the back of Morty's head only to have that expression fall away in favor of something far more scheming when he remembered the dream inceptor embedded in Morty's neck.

Well. If he couldn't have fun out in space, then Rick supposed he'd just have to find something to entertain him around the house.

 

* * *

 

The journey back to Earth was painfully silent. Rick was too irritated speak, deeply immersed in his plans for the teen beside him as a means to avoid snapping at Morty any more than he already had, and Morty was in a similar boat. Everything about his body language screamed nervous and apologetic but Rick paid it very little mind. The little shit broke his portal gun. Morty was lucky he was only getting the cold shoulder.

The moment they arrived home, Morty was out of the ship and fleeing the garage at record speed. Rick didn't bother trying to stop him. He wanted Morty gone. At least for now.

Even though he'd never admit it, the moment his grandson was gone, Rick laid his busted portal gun out on his work bench and took a quiet moment to mourn its loss. It'd been years since he was careless enough to let anything major happen to his most prized invention and seeing it broken beyond repair tugged at Rick's heartstrings in a way even the collapse of his own marriage hadn't come close to. Science would always be his main squeeze and the loss of his most favored invention was just a rough patch in another merciless marriage.

Rick didn't leave the garage for the rest of the night. He sat at his work space and tinkered around with the projects laid out in front of him, drinking whiskey and smoking the weed Squanchy left behind last time they hung out. Every once and a while he'd glance over at his portal gun, feeling its loss like an aching bruise he just couldn't stop prodding, but Rick refused to let it get to him. The portal gun wasn't lost to him forever. He'd rebuild it, new and improved, and he'd be right back to fucking around in the multiverse in no time.

Still. The constraint of being limited to a single universe after everything he'd seen and done rubbed Rick the wrong way. The restriction clung to him like an ill fitting suit, chafing and squeezing too tight when he moved, forever reminding him that it just wasn't quite right, and Rick growled to himself at the temporary limitation.

By the time midnight rolled around and the little green light on his corresponding inceptor flickered on, indicating that Morty had finally entered REM sleep, Rick was ready for a distraction.

He swept from the garage then, scowling at Jerry and giving his daughter a small, superficial smile as he passed them by on his way to his bedroom. The small, dimly illuminated room was lacking invitation, crowded with boxes and blueprints and long finished inventions that he didn't feel like storing in the garage, but Rick hardly paid the long familiar environment any mind. Instead, he plopped down on his cot. He reclined with his head propped up on a pillow and his legs crossed at the ankles, and wiggled the small inceptor into his ear with a yawn.

Rick wasn't exactly tired but he could already feel the thing working its magic, lulling his body into sleep the moment he clicked it on. It was almost too easy to close his eyes and fade away.

 

* * *

 

When Rick opened his eyes, he was back in the chemical storage locker from before. Except, this time, he was a spectator watching the situation play out from a third party perspective.

Everything was just how it'd been before; rusted metal interior, long dried chemicals beneath their shoes, Morty tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt while Rick turned his portal gun too and fro, trying to decide if he'd be able to use it even with a cracked dome. Rick nodded to himself, both at his memory and the handy work of his invention, and made a subtle change from within the dream just to make sure he could. In an instant, time skipped forward. The dogs had already barked. Morty's back was to his chest, his palm over the boy's mouth, and Rick's lips curled into a dark, gleeful smile as he watched Morty shake in his grasp.

The glitch of their shared dream meant nothing to Morty. The boy was asleep, his mind filling in the blanks just as readily as Rick's, ignoring the gaps or things that didn't make sense with ease, as all dreamers did. Morty's mind was under the impression that this was _his_ dream after all, one he perceived and created simultaneously, so it made sense that he wouldn't recognize errors in the programming, so to speak.

Rick chuckled to himself and used his thoughts to influence the dream once more.

His dream self snaked an arm around Morty's waist, sliding his hand just under the teen's shirt, and Morty started to squirm. He didn't make any headway, whether because he didn't actually want to escape or because _Rick_ didn't want him to, the scientist didn't know. It didn't matter one way or the other. Rick watched his doppelganger lean in, just as he'd done before. Rather than just whispering to the boy, he ran a hot, wicked tongue along the outer shell of the brunet's ear.

"Quiet, Morty," He whispered, "They'll hear you."

Morty shook his head but Rick's dream avatar just offered a dark chuckle, petting the bottom of Morty's belly and tugging at the waistband of his pants. They'd been jeans back in the locker but it wasn't hard to make them sweats now, loose and easily accessible, and Rick grinned to himself as he noticed Morty starting to get hard beneath the fabric. Too easy.

Dream Rick nipped the side of Morty's neck, perhaps a little too roughly, and drew a squeak from the boy beneath him. Even Rick had to admit that the sound was somewhat cute, one that he wouldn't mind hearing again. As if his other self had heard him— which it had —the doppelganger nipped Morty's neck again, and again, lavishing the abused skin with wet licks and hot, open mouthed kisses between bites, drawing more and more noises from his forcibly quieted grandson.

Morty was no longer squirming to get away. He was simply writhing against the body behind him, offering Dream Rick as much access to his neck as he could, and suddenly Morty was missing his shirt. The loss took Rick by surprise but, when his other self dragged his hand up to pinch at the boy's nipples, drawing needy sounds from Morty's lips, a slimy grin widened Rick's pre-existing smile. The boy was starting to fill in some of the details himself, making the dream a shared experience rather than something Rick alone created, and the old man looked on with a satisfied smirk as the scene continued to play out.

Perhaps this little endeavor wouldn't be nearly as complicated as he'd originally thought. Morty was a teenager after all. He was inexperienced, prone to manipulation, and, if his eyes could be believed, then it also seemed that Morty wasn't totally against the idea of less-than-platonic touches from his grandpa like Rick initially thought. Rick doubted Morty had ever _actually_ thought about this in any major way. Morty wasn't all that subtle and Rick probably would've noticed if his grandson was lusting after him, especially since it was pretty common in their shared area of the multiverse, but his influence had certainly done a good sized chunk of the work for him. Morty wasn't as cemented in his morality as he'd been when they first met, Rick's influence having chipped away a good portion of the societal norms that kept those morals grounded, and now Morty's "subconscious" would do the rest.

Rick's dick gave an interested twinge, both at the sight laid out before him and the knowledge of how easily he was manipulating his grandson. Rick hummed to himself as he rubbed the heel of his palm against the crotch of his pants.

The dream hadn't paused in his mental absence.

His doppelganger and Morty were still going at it but, by now, his other self had Morty's pants down near his knees and he had his fingers wrapped around Morty's length. Rick looked on with vague amusement. He watched Morty pant and moan behind the hand covering his mouth, his little body quivering as he rose up into his tiptoes, trying to find leverage to thrust into the palm stripping his cock, but Rick put a stop to that right away. He froze Morty in place, forcing him to stay still and take what Rick was giving him, and the boy offered a muffled, frustrated moan in response.

Rick hummed and momentarily turned his attention away from the main event. The dogs were sniffing at the door, growling and clawing at the aged metal, and Rick decided that they could use a change of scenery.

In the blink of an eye they were back home. The pair were in Rick's room, standing close to the cracked open door and suddenly Rick's thoughts were pouring from the doppelganger's mouth.

"Your parents are gonna hear you, Morty. Your mom is gonna hear you whining and she's gonna come in here. What do you think will happen she she sees you, huh baby? You think she's gonna blame me for taking advantage of your sweet little body?"

Morty whined and tears started to leak from the corners of his eyes as Dream Rick stopped jerking him off, choosing instead to pet his thumb back and forth just beneath the head of the teen's dick while he spoke.

"I bet if I uncovered your mouth right now, you'd beg me to let you come. Even if your mom was standing right fucking there. W _—euurp—_ wouldn't you, Morty?"

The brunet tried to shake his head no but the twitch of his dick told both Ricks otherwise.

"Such a filthy slut, letting grandpa paw at you like a piece of meat."

Morty threw his head back against Dream Rick's shoulder, straining toward his orgasm despite the lack of stimulation, and Rick took that opportunity to shove the boy out of the dream.

The dreamscape went white the moment Morty was gone and, at that point, Rick didn't hesitate to gently tug the inceptor from his own ear.

Rick's eyes fluttered open a few seconds later and the grin that remained on his lips as he stared at the ceiling was downright ominous. He could picture Morty in his bed, sitting straight up with wide eyes and sweat pouring down his face as if he'd just woken from the worst night terror imaginable. He could already imagine the way he'd stare down at his lap in horror, trying to figure out if that really just happened, wondering what it meant, if it meant anything, aching for release but terrified to touch himself in case that somehow cemented the fact that he'd just had an unfulfilled and entirely unwanted wet dream about his own grandfather.

The depravity of it tickled Rick pink and even though he was sporting an erection of his own, Rick didn't have any issue ignoring it. In fact, he clicked off his light without a second thought and rolled over with a content sigh, settling in below his blanket and falling back asleep before he could stop to wonder if this made him more of a monster than he already was.

Rick slept better that night than he had in nearly six months.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the next three days, Morty refused to meet Rick's eyes for any reason. 

He was practically the poster child for subservience, following the smallest order without question, standing straight but keeping his eyes on the ground. It really wasn’t all that bad for Rick, who was used to dealing with Morty’s bratty attitude, and Rick idly wondered if there were dimensions out there were Morty was submissive enough to willingly be a slave. 

Though endearing, the behavior was also a little pathetic if he was being honest. If Rick hadn't been well aware of what was actually going on behind the scenes, he might've found it in his shriveled up old heart to feel bad. Morty's behavior could easily be chalked up to him breaking the portal gun and trying to make up for it in the only way his shrunken teenage brain could come up with, but it wasn't. It was due to embarrassment. 

Shock riddled embarrassment, sure, but still embarrassment. 

However, that didn't mean Rick was displeased with the way things were going. 

Rick cracked open another beer with a chuckle and slung his arm across the back of the couch, settling in to watch  _ My Big Fat Rick Wedding. _

Morty couldn't even  _ look _ at him without blushing and that was as good of a sign as any to Rick. Progress was progress, and Morty's lingering, overly curious looks felt like more than a couple steps forward.

Rick didn't have x-ray vision, at least not on regular days, but he could see the wheels turning in Morty's head. It wasn't hard to track the boy's thoughts. Curiosity and hesitant intrigue were painted across Morty's face in broad strokes, highlighted by the way his gaze strayed to Rick's hands when they spoke or when he suddenly fell silent with ruby red cheeks and the sort of wide eyes that only ever came with accidental innuendos and dirty thoughts. There were times that Rick could feel Morty's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. During those times, he could imagine Morty trying to understand, wondering about when he'd first noticed Rick sexually or if the dream had been some sort of fluke, staring at the man in question as he tried to figure out if he found him attractive outside of his dream. 

It was actually pretty amusing, watching Morty fumble his way through his tangled up mess of morally conflicting feelings, and Rick was glad the teen was enough of an open book for him to enjoy it.

Speaking of which.

Rick barely gave his grandson a glance when the teen wandered into the living room and sat next to him on the couch. Morty was on the furthest cushion away from him, like somehow being any closer would confirm all his worst fears, and Rick did his absolute best to tone down the amusement behind his smirk. 

Morty looked nervous again. It was obvious, even from his peripherals, but Rick's entertainment at the situation quickly wore off in favor of annoyance when he failed to settle in and stop squirming. Rick did pretty well of keeping his temper in check, swallowing every rude comment that bubbled to his lips with a mouthful of crappy beer, but eventually his six pack ran out and Morty was still fidgeting and side-eyeing him whenever possible. Rick finally snapped.

"Can you sit still, Morty? Christ. Take a fuckin' Ritalin or something."

"Sorry, Rick, I'm just..." 

The brunet trailed off, appearing to struggle for words, and for once Rick threw him a lifeline instead of being an asshole about it. The nicer way fit into his plans better anyway.

Rick turned to his grandson, giving the appearance of trying to offer minor connection in the form of a serious conversation, and said, "Look Morty, I know I was a — a real dick to you the other day, but ya broke my fuckin' _ portal gun, _ dawg."

Morty's brows pulled together and Rick allowed the split second of confusion that crossed the boy's face to make up for the fact that he was offering the little idiot an olive branch. Even if that offering was given as a distraction and a means to a completely different end.

He could see the exact moment that it all clicked into place for Morty. Because  _ of course _ Rick wouldn't know anything about his dream. He'd been good at hiding it. There was no way the old man knew. Rick just thought his weird behavior was because he felt guilty.

Yeah fuckin' right. It took everything Rick had not to roll his eyes. 

"I could've fixed that shit in like, two seconds if you hadn't taken it out of the bag and tried to use it, Morty," Rick said in all seriousness. "And now it's gonna take me two months to fix. You get me? I'm pissed about it. But you were buying me time, like I asked, a-and beggers can't be choosers or whatever. Okay? I'm mostly over it." 

Rick turned back away from Morty, just as he would've if the conversation had been totally authentic, and took another drink from his last beer. "I'm not waiting around to rip your head off and shit down your throat or whatever you're imagining for breaking my stuff so just cool it and chill the fuck out alright? I can't deal with you squirming all over the place, Morty, it gives me a — a fuckin', I dunno, a headache or something. It's annoying."

Rick crunched the empty can with ease and dropped it beside the couch with all the others, belching loudly as he did. 

"Hey Morty, why don't you make yourself useful and go get grandpa something else to drink."

He glanced at Morty from the corner of his eye and nearly gave the game away when Morty met his gaze for the first time in days with a wide, eager to please smile and pretty, pink cheeks. His grandson's big, doe eyes were sparkling with mirth, just like some corny ass cartoon, and Rick could've sworn there were tears in his eyes. It was honestly a little ridiculous how easy it was to win the little shit over. All it took was some forgiveness and a tiny explanation disguised as a heart-to-fuckin-heart and Morty looked ready to eat out of the palm of his hand. It made Rick wonder what sort of childhood his grandson had before he arrived. 

"Sure thing, Rick! I'll go — go grab something right now!" 

The boy bounced up off the couch like he had energy to spare and sped from the room, practically leaving a vapor trail in his wake. 

For his part, Rick just snickered and kicked his feet up on the table. Easy or not, everything was going according to plan and, while he waited, Rick toyed with idea of what dream to send Morty next. 

 

* * *

  
  


Even though he was known for being an impatient asshole, Rick decided to let things cool down before he sent Morty another dream. The kid was just too jumpy, no longer avoiding his gaze but not entirely back to normal either, and Rick wanted to see the waters calm and still before he threw another stone into the pond. 

So he let things be. 

Rick bided his time, working in the garage and gathering the necessary tools and materials to get started on the replacement for his portal gun. It was tedious work, not nearly as exciting as traversing the multiverse or inventing something new, but Rick did it with minimal complaints. It was effort that'd pay off in the end. 

Knowing that it was worth his time didn't make it any less boring. 

To fill the gaps, Rick imagined all the various ways he could torment his grandson later on. Countless scenarios played in Rick's head like film on a reel, fantasies and possible dreams and even things he could do to  _ inspire _ said dreams. It wasn't as entertaining as the multiverse but it was enough of a fresh distraction to keep Rick from throwing things around the garage and cursing up a storm. 

He was in the middle of doing just that, installing a number of updates to the ship and idly wondering how Morty would react to getting eaten out, when his phone rang. 

Some generic ringtone he hadn't bothered to change rang through the garage in an echo. It startled the older man enough to make him jerk up and slam his head into the frame of the ship with a grunt and Rick growled as he dug the thing out of his pocket and answered it.

"Yo, this is Rick. This better be — better be good."

A deep, masculine tone sounded on the other end of the line. Their English was laden and weighed down with a thick, alien accent, and it took Rick a stupidly long time to recognize it. 

"Oh shit, Trandor, is that you? What's up? I haven't seen you since—" 

The Krootabulon on the other end cut him off with an angry word in his own language and Rick suddenly remembered that the last time they'd seen each other he'd tried to kill the alien to keep Jerry alive. What a shame that was. Rick didn't usually regret shit but he should've just let the dude kill his pathetic son-in-law. At least that way Beth wouldn't have been able to call off the divorce.

Rick could barely believe that was over a year ago.

Propping the phone up between his ear and his shoulder, Rick half-listened to the blue alien go on about something or another while he tinkered with the mechanics of the ship, slipping further and further away from the conversation as he attempted to rewire the shit he'd ripped out the other day. It wasn't hard to multitask but when Trandor started dipping into his native tongue to imply his mother was their planet's version of a chupacabra, Rick cut him off.

"Look, buddy," Rick said, dropping his wire strippers and wiping grease off his forehead with the back of his hand, "I'm well-fucking-aware that I tried to kill you and that you and your Jerry-fucking girlfriend think I'm a  _ p'tok, _ maybe even a  _ QI'yaH, _ but can you cut to the chase? I'm kinda busy here."

Rick slid out from underneath the ship and sat back against it, fishing out his flask and taking a long gulp as he listened to the other speak. However, it wasn't long before the Krootabulon's offer got interesting and Rick's eyes glazed over with greed.

"A couple Irken PAKs in exchange for a weapons run, huh?"

Rick tapped one of his fingers against the side of his knee. It was a tempting offer. The run was In-Universe, something he could easily accomplish with just the ship,  _ and _ it'd give him a head start on fixing his portal gun. 

Irkens were especially valuable to the more tech savvy species in the universe as the little technological bubbles attached to their backs ran using powdered xanthanite. It wouldn't be hard to crystallize the powder, not for him at least. Rick was beyond tempted, but that didn't mean the trade came without potential consequences. Or, at the very least, extreme inconvenience. 

Totally ignoring the blaring possibility that the whole thing could be a trap, Rick was hesitant to fuck with Irken technology. 

Irkens may have been short, politically stupid creatures that ate too much junk and worried about height enough to be comical, but they were also violent little creatures hell bent on destruction. Rick personally didn't consider them much of a threat but they  _ were _ an invasive species that specialized in conquering other worlds. Especially worlds that were dumb or poorly protected, worlds like  _ Earth, _ and unfortunately for him, they took their PAKs pretty seriously. 

Rick didn't really want to direct Irken attention to Earth. He'd already had to deal with enough bullshit to last a lifetime when the Federation learned about his backwater little planet. But still. It'd cut at least a week off his project and any excuse to avoid Federation space in search of xanthanite was a welcome trade. 

Rick huffed when the alien on the other end of the phone started to get impatient. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Quit bitching. Fine, I'll haul your shit for the PAKs. Where are you?" 

Rick mentally bookmarked the location, holding in a groan when he realized he'd have to dip his toes into Fed territory anyway, and grumbled out something about being there in a couple hours before hanging up and nearly chucking his phone across the room. It was a dumb trade, but Rick was bored and it'd prove fruitful, he supposed. 

"Morty!" He hollered, pushing himself up off the ground with a grunt. "Get your skinny ass in here, we've got shit to do!" 

The teen poked his head into the garage a second later. "What's goin' on, Rick?" 

Rick shrugged on his lab coat and started loading up his pockets with various gadgets. Even if it wasn't a trap and they didn't run into trouble, he'd rather be safe than sorry, especially without his portal gun. 

"Weapons run in the Andromeda Galaxy, need your brain waves."

Morty bristled, as he always did when Rick mentioned using him as a camouflage, but he didn't utter a single complaint as he got into the passenger seat. Rick slipped in beside him and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the luxury of not having to listen to Morty bitch. He sighed contently, much to the boy's confusion, but Rick didn't bother explaining. He simply enjoyed the moment for what it was and the took off without another word.

 

* * *

  
  


It was a bomb. 

They were transporting three crates of spears and other primitive weapons and a fucking bomb. 

Rick scowled at the tangled mess of wires and small, liquid filled vats as Morty hauled one of the crates into the back of the ship as best he could. 

"I'm not smuggling that." Rick repeated for the second time, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. 

"That's gorgonshit, Sanchez! Total gorgonshit!" Trandor yelled. 

The Krootabulon towered over him, hulking and trying to appear just as intimidating as he probably was to most other species in the galaxy, but he didn't scare Rick. The guy was a three-nippled pussy and Rick dared him to make a fuckin' move. 

"No, what's gorgonshit is that you hired me to haul weapons through Federation space a-and didn't bother to mention that you were gonna be sending a piece of shit bomb along with me! Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" Rick fired back. 

The alien's face and neck flushed a deeper shade of blue with anger. "How dare you—" 

"Fuck you, Trandor." Rick interrupted. "It's a piece of shit. I've built better bombs than that when I was piss drunk and couldn't find my dick. I wouldn't be surprised if that piece of junk malfunctioned a-a-and exploded before we even left the Andromeda system."

Rick could hear Morty murmuring out his typical 'oh jeez' as he started loading the second crate into the ship but Rick didn't acknowledge it in the slightest. 

The Krootabulon was shaking with rage, his three fingered hand clenched in a fist and the veins in his abnormally large forehead bulging. Rick wondered if he'd take a swing. It wouldn't be the first time. 

"You'll take the spears but not the bomb."

It wasn't a question, more of a flat statement, and Rick could already tell it'd be a deal breaker. The crates must have been a smoke screen then, and the bomb was the real package. No bomb, no PAKs. 

Rick suppressed a sigh and improvised. 

"Not for two measly PAKs. The only way that bomb is going anywhere close to my  _ —euuurp—  _ to my ship is if you've got two more dead Irkens in your trunk." He bargained. 

Trandor still looked pissed but, now that he'd made a counter offer to transport the bomb, he didn't look _ as  _ pissed. Which suited Rick just fine. 

"I've got three PAKs and a few chunks of Munlockus horn. Best I can do, Sanchez."

Rick appeared to ponder it for a moment but, in reality, the moment Trandor offered up the horn, he'd been sold. They were notoriously hard to find, even for him, and Rick loved having aphrodisiacs on hand. 

"Yeah, alright." He finally acquiesced, acting like he was put-out by the whole thing. "Give me the PAKs and the horn and I'll transport your shitty bomb."

The alien grit his teeth but didn't object. He turned on heel and stalked back toward his ship and Rick turned his attention to his grandson. The brunet was loading the final crate into the back with shaking arms as he fought to position it and, as Rick glanced down at the bomb, a terrible idea filled his blackened heart with glee. 

As soon as Morty stepped back to wipe the sweat from his forehead, Rick scooped up the bomb and hauled it over to the ship. There was just enough space in the back to set it in the floorboards but, instead, Rick set the thing gently in the passenger's seat and closed the door behind him. If Morty suspected his intentions, he didn't show it, and Rick was sure to act casual as could be when he met Trandor on the other side of the ship and took the weighted bag from his grasp. Rick peered inside, just to make sure the alien hadn't fucked him over out of spite, and gave the Krootabulon a nod before wrenching the his door open and dropping heavily into his seat. 

"C'mon, Morty!" Rick called, rolling down the passenger window so he wouldn't have to yell. "Hop on my lap and let's get the fuck out of here."

Morty squeaked from the other side of the ship and gawked at Rick through the window. "Y-your lap?" 

Rick gave him a look like he was stupid. "Yeah, Morty, _ my lap. _ Be my guest if you wanna cruise back through the asteroid belt with a half-assed bomb sitting on your lap but, if I was you, I'd rather not have that piece of shit sitting on top of my dick."

Morty looked entirely conflicted. He was glancing between the bomb, the seat, and Rick, trying to find a way around the two options he'd just been given. Rick could pinpoint the exact moment Morty gave up. The teen's shoulders slumped a bit and he pushed himself away from the passenger door, dragging his feet as he walked around to Rick's side. 

For his part, Rick was kind enough to push the seat back, giving Morty ample amounts of room to get situated. It was a small kindness, but it seemed the brunet appreciate it nonetheless. Morty murmured a word of thanks and simply stared at Rick's lap for a long moment before taking a deep breath and finally biting the bullet.

Rick couldn't possibly have been more pleased.

Morty was a blushing, awkward mess as he settled into his lap. The boy didn't know what to do. He was stiff as a board, carefully avoiding touching any part of Rick he didn't absolutely have to, his gaze darting every which way as he did a damn fine job of trying to gnaw through his own lip, and Rick could do nothing but sit there in unabashed amusement. He didn't even have to hide it. Maybe he should've, all things considered, but Morty knew he was a dick and that he found enjoyment in the discomfort of others. He'd never once tried to hide that, at least not in any real way, and Rick was glad. It was much more fun to torment Morty with his amusement than try to hide it behind a stoic facade.

"Alright, Morty, listen. If we go over any rough patches,  _ try _ not to get a boner while you're bouncing in my lap. It will just be awkward for everyone involved if you do."

Morty’s blushed darkened a few shades at Rick's teasing but the older man just laughed about it, totally ignoring the temperamental look on Morty's face as he rolled down the window and listened to Trandor ramble out a few last minute instructions. Jesus, the guy was annoying. He'd already explained it twice and Rick didn't need the refresher. He'd already pissed the alien off quite a bit though so, instead of talking over him like he wanted to, Rick simply let him get through it, looking bored and all sorts of annoyed as he waited it out.

The Krootabulon apparently sensed his lack of attention because a few seconds later he fell silent with a grumpy scowl. Rick ignored that too and waved off whatever else he might've had to say by rolling up the window before the alien could get another word in and he took off just a few moments later.

Rick felt better the moment they broke through the planet's atmosphere and he sighed when they started zipping through space. Morty, it seemed, felt the same, and Rick was able to breathe easier when the boy lost some of the tension.

"Well, that was a load of shit." Rick finally said.

Morty laughed at that. "Gorgonshit, Rick. Total Gorgonshit."

The older man snorted and reached forward, effectively pressing his chest up against Morty's back, and flicked a switch on the dash.

"You said it, Morty. Ready to go home?"

Immediate confusion overcame Morty's features and, when the boy looked up at him from his lap, Rick forced himself to remember that now would be the absolute worst time to fantasize and end up with an erection.

"Home?" Morty questioned. "But what about that planet next to Federation space or whatever?"

Rick snorted.

"Are you joking, Morty? Fuck that guy. What kind of dipshit hands over his product  _ and _ the reward before the job is done?" Rick shook his head, grumbling about amatures, and reclined further back in his seat, subtly pushing his groin up against Morty's ass as he readjusted. "I don't gotta do shit for him, Morty. I got what I wanted and, after I take a peek inside those crates, I'm sending all that shit out the door along with that crappy ass bomb."

The brunet looked momentarily conflicted, like he didn't know if he was supposed to protest Rick being a bastard or not, but eventually he just shrugged and sorta leaned back against Rick's chest.

"Kinda — kinda messed up, Rick, but that  _ was _ pretty dumb."

The older man snickered and reached out to grab the steering wheel with both hands, effectively boxing Morty in with his arms as he weaved them through a patch of spaced out debris. A seedy smirk graced Rick's lips when Morty's breath hitched but he forced it down in favor of indifference a second later, feeling beyond smug and pleased with his plan as the blush staining Morty's cheeks started to creep down his neck.

Watching Morty get shy and embarrassed had Rick feeling a certain type of way and he longed to fuck with Morty some more. He'd been pretty good about not taking advantage of the dream inceptors the way he wanted to after that first time and Morty was mostly back to normal. At least as normal as he could be with a brewing crush. Feeling a little self indulgent, Rick decided that, tonight, he'd make Morty dream about getting fucked in the ship.


	4. Chapter 4

After toying with his grandson following their "weapons run," Rick just couldn't seem to help himself. It was just so  _ fun _ watching Morty fall deeper and deeper into his little existential crisis. It was like holding the strings of a particularly interesting marionette, tugging the threaded lines here or there and watching Morty hyperventilate and flip his shit with every new development. If anybody else would've been watching, Rick was sure they could've all agreed that it was turning out to be a hell of a performance.

It was simply too entertaining to ignore.

Over the course of the next three weeks, Rick  _ tortured _ his grandson. If Morty said he had a test in math, Rick made sure to make him dream about getting his dick sucked under the desk while everyone was taking peeks at him and scratching away at their papers the night before. If he said he was feeling tired, Rick kept him up even longer, running him ragged with short term, ship based adventures that always ended in them touching in some way and then he'd send the boy to bed, making him dream about overstimulating handjobs while his dream self was simply too tired to make it stop. If Morty got captured, Rick sent him dreams about bondage. If he heard Morty masturbating, Rick sent him dreams of getting caught with a hand down his pants and then getting fucked six ways from Sunday afterwards.

Rick was sending dreams to Morty two or three times a week. Hell, it was to the point where Rick wasn't even  _ watching _ the dreams anymore. He simply sent them Morty's way and enjoyed the embarrassment that followed.

However, the absolute best thing so far was that  _ Morty hadn't given in yet. _

Every night that Rick controlled Morty's dreams, the boy would drag his ass out of bed sporting a painful looking erection and he'd take a cold shower. It was like clockwork. Aside from that very first night, Morty hadn't failed to force his erection away under a spray of icy water and, even though Morty's surprising lack of cooperation was delaying his overall plan, Rick wasn't even remotely upset about it. He liked it when Morty managed to surprise him. Considering the teen was all but addicted to jacking off, Rick was especially surprised that he hadn't taken advantage of all the fantastic wank material his dreams were now providing his imagination.

It made Rick wonder what it'd take to get Morty to give in. He'd already sent the boy an entire buffet of scandalous dreams and, if they weren't enough to get the job done, then what was? Rick enjoyed a challenge and he was sporting an ear-to-ear grin as he pondered all the potential dream scenarios he could use to crumble Morty's will to dust.

Rick was deep in thought as he passed by Morty's room. He was busy thinking of what dream would be best to send later that night, totally wrapped up in his own thoughts, and it was probably only his hypersensitivity to Morty's progress in his plan that allowed Rick to notice the soft, if somewhat poorly muffled moans coming from his grandson's room.

Rick stilled just outside the door with a smirk. So Morty _ was  _ getting off. Maybe not right after the dreams happened but he was still taking advantage of the material provided to him. What a filthy boy.

Rick knew he probably shouldn't, but he leaned in closer to try and hear what was happening. If he could get some idea about what, specifically, was turning Morty's crank, then it'd be much easier to plan out which dreams to use. As it was, he was sort of flying blind, trying to cover as many of his bases as possible without actually knowing the details about what got Morty off. A couple hints would be so much better and, of course, Rick loved being able to hedge his bets. 

It seemed, though, that Rick was bound to be disappointed. He wasn't at Morty's door for more then thirty seconds before his grandson whimpered out Jessica's name, causing Rick to angrily scowl. 

So that's how it was, huh? His stupid little companion was evading his plan by living in a state of denial, forcing himself to think solely of more appropriate people to fuel his fantasies instead of succumbing to what was right in front of his face. Rick wondered if Morty was using the dream scenarios he created, wedging Jessica into his place like forcing a round peg into a square hole even though it didn't fit. That thought just pissed him off more. 

Morty was simply derailing his plans now rather than being interesting and Rick wasn't about to let that fly. 

Rick threw Morty's door open like he owned the place, ignoring his grandson's squawk of embarrassed alarm, and rolled his eyes when Morty immediately covered himself with a blanket. 

"What the hell, Rick!" Morty demanded, flushed and angry as a spurned porcupine. 

"Adventure, Morty. I need your help, so c'mon."

Morty’s face flushed a couple shades deeper, though Rick wasn't sure if that was due to increased anger or just the embarrassment finally catching up. 

"I'm kinda busy, Rick!" 

The scientist crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Morty, enjoying the little thrill that raced through him when Morty tried to suppress the way he gulped. 

"Yeah, Morty? You're busy beating off in your room? You can do that anytime, Morty! And I need your help now. Or do you not wanna help me fix the portal gun?" 

Guilt is a useless emotion in Rick's opinion but it’s an excellent source of manipulation where Morty was concerned. Anytime he mentioned doing something for the sake of fixing his beloved portal gun, Morty immediately deflated, and this time was no different. Morty's shoulders slumped, and he sighed with defeat, giving in almost instantaneously. 

"Alright, Rick." He said. "I'll be ready to go in a few minutes."

"Great!" Rick replied, already in a better mood. "Meet me in the garage in five!" 

Morty seemed a little better off then, apparently encouraged by Rick's good mood, and the older man internally cackled at how easy it was to throw Morty off track.

Rick couldn't be sure just how many times Morty had gotten off to Jessica since he upped the amount of dreams he was sending, and he couldn't be sure that Morty wouldn't hurry and try to get off  _ now _ before their adventure, but Rick knew he needed to do something about it. He couldn't just camp outside of Morty's door, throwing the thing open and announcing a new adventure everytime Morty tried to get off. He  _ could, _ actually, if he wanted to, but the amount of extra work and attention that required was beyond what Rick felt like putting in. He'd just have to find another way. He just didn't know how to go about it just yet. 

What Rick  _ did _ know, though, was that he had to put a stop to Morty's self imposed denial if he wanted the boy's so-called crush to evolve. Morty forcing himself to think about Jessica while he got off was a roadblock, one that Rick wasn't willing to simply chip away slowly over time, and, as the older man trotted down the stairs and made his way toward the garage, he plotted.

 

* * *

  
  


"So, what are we looking for again?"

"Morty, I swear to  _ god—" _

"C'mon, Rick, just one more time. I promise!"

"Mushrooms, Morty! We're looking for mushrooms!"

"Yeah but—"

"But what!"

"What kind! We're surrounded by mushrooms!"

Rick sighed and glanced around with an annoyed eye. The boy wasn't wrong. The planet they were on was a fungi smörgåsbord. There were mushrooms everywhere, some of them known on Earth and some of them originating from other worlds. The majority of the planet's surface was covered in trees and damp, far reaching caves, broken only by a couple stretches of water. It was the perfect place for fungi to flourish and, even from where they were standing, Rick could see at least sixteen different species alone. Trying to find a single cluster of a specific type of mushroom was a nightmare in the making, hence why he dragged Morty along. Rick would never say it but two sets of eyes was certainly better than one in this case.

_ "Cyathus novaezelandiae, _ Morty. Birds nest fungus." Rick highly doubted Morty had any idea what he was talking about so he didn't bother waiting for the confusion or the questions that'd most certainly follow before he kept speaking. "They look like a little cup with small rocks inside."

"Oh," Morty said, sounding somewhat surprised even though Rick was certain he'd mentioned that less clearly at least twice already.

"Well that shouldn't be too hard."

Rick immediately snorted.  _ "Right,  _ not too hard. Except for the fact that they — that they're small as hell and grow close to the ground and the kind we need have blue spore pods instead of white. But — but sure, Morty. Not too hard. Stay optimistic."

The teen looked much less confident than he had a second ago but Rick ignored it. With or without Morty, trying to find the species he was looking for was going to be a bitch. He'd known that going in and even Morty's little burst of optimism wasn't enough to delude Rick into thinking that the task ahead was anything other than hard, tedious work. 

"C'mon, Morty," Rick said, clicking on his flashlight and wading through the ferns along the edge of the forest. "We've got a lot of ground to cover and we've only got until first light or else we'll have to try again later."

A quiet "oh jeez" sounded behind him and Rick rolled his eyes. Even after all these years, his dim-witted grandson hadn't changed. 

"And don't touch anything!" Rick barked. "Not all these things are friendly and I don't need you fuckin'  _ rupturing _ some spore pod and screaming bloody murder later when I have to cut them out."

Rick glanced behind him to make sure Morty got the message and the teen gulped, nodding in agreement with a new found glimmer of paranoia in his gaze as he tried to avoid touching any and all fungi. 

Rick rolled his eyes and looked away from the boy as he continued his search.

It ended up being just as much of a hassle as he remembered, made even worse by Morty's constant whining. They'd found no less than six different clusters of the Bird's Nest Fungi, each of them in some obscure spot, but none of the clusters were what they were looking for. Almost all the pods were white, with the exception of a particularly odd patch that had yellow pods, and Rick was starting to get frustrated. He almost wished that he would've simply gone alone. It would've been more work but at least he wouldn't have to listen to Morty bitch for hours on end.

With his lips tugged down in a sour, unmistakable frown, Rick wiped the sweat from his brow for the sixth time in less than ten minutes. The sun would be rising soon. Rick could feel it, and the forest was starting to get muggy, even without the sun. They'd have to come back, or at least he would, and Rick wasn't looking forward to spending another eight hours looking for the dumb pods. He didn't have a choice though. If he wanted to make crystals from the powered xanthanite, then he needed the spore pods. Specifically, he needed the spore pods from a cluster that hadn't grown to fruition on  _ Earth. _ It was frustrating but not something Rick could avoid if he wanted to finish his portal gun as quickly as possible.

"Hey, Rick! I think I found something!"

Morty immediately had the older man's attention and Rick abandoned his own search in order to push through the foliage toward Morty. He prayed— for his grandson's sake —that the boy wasn't wrong. Rick was legitimately concerned he might throttle him if it was another false alarm. 

Rick came to a stop just behind Morty and peered over the boy's shoulder, feeling his eyes widen as he stared down at Morty's find. It definitely  _ wasn't _ a false alarm. There was an entire cluster of them and it was bigger than normal, six in the cluster and twenty pods at least. When Morty peered up at him, looking worried that he might have called him over for nothing, Rick didn't bother trying to appear less excited than he actually was. 

"These — these are the ones, Morty!" Rick exclaimed. 

His smile was right on the verge of being manic as he stared down at the mushrooms with greedy eyes. The smile he got in return for those words was enticingly radiant. Rick couldn't help feeling overly fond as he reached out to ruffle Morty's curls. There was a reason he dragged Morty along with him. 

"Now we gotta — just gotta harvest these bad boys and we can get the fuck outta here, Morty."

His grandson nodded, all too eager to comply it seemed, and Rick quickly explained how to extract the pods without damaging them. It was a fairly simple process, just a matter of carefully unsticking them from the other pods and then snipping the line that held them in place, but fucking up could be disastrous. They tended to be heat sensitive, at least the otherworldly ones were, and a single wrong touch could trigger them to rupture. Which was bad enough but, as Rick had found out quite early on, the rupture of one pod tended to start a chain reaction in the entire cluster. 

It wasn't pretty. 

Luckily, Morty was fairly decent at following instructions. The brunet had thin fingers and steady hands, something Rick appreciated when it came to snipping the fungal cords, and Rick nodded to himself in approval as he watched Morty delicately collect each pod. 

Things seemed to be going pretty well. Which was why it came as a total shock to both of them when one of the spore sacs exploded in Morty's face. 

There was barely any warning, just the outer layer of the pod splitting, and suddenly the thing ruptured. It enveloped most of Morty's head in a white cloud and Rick only had enough time to clamp his hand over Morty's mouth and nose to prevent him from inhaling it. He just hoped the little shit had his eyes closed or they were about to have a clusterfuck of a problem. They were gonna have a huge problem anyway, but Rick hoped it wouldn't get any worse. 

The older man hauled Morty out of the settling shower of spores as quickly as he could but one look at his grandson's face, as well as the back of his own hand, told him it wasn't fast enough. The contaminated skin was growing puffy and red with irritation and it looked like they were both in the midst of an acne break-out. A number of their pores were clogged, swelling up like a zit, but as Rick was more than familiar, there wasn't anything as harmless as oils and gunk trying to break through the skin's surface. The mushrooms were fast growing, especially where live hosts were concerned, and Rick was confident enough to bet his left nut they'd have mushroom caps popping out of their skin before they got back to Earth. 

And Rick was right. 

They barely made it back to the ship before the first one broke past the skin. 

Morty screamed as it did, thrashing around in the passenger's seat as his skin split, and Rick winced sympathetically as he watched little clusters of tiny blue caps start to pop out of Morty's pores like daisies. As much as he would've liked to blame it on the teen's incompetence and throw up a 'no sympathy for self inflicted' mindset, Rick knew it wasn't Morty's fault. Nature was a cunt, especially in space, and his grandson had done everything right. 

He was a cold hearted bastard most of the time but Rick couldn't help feeling bad. He'd been there a time or two himself and it wasn't anything close to pleasant. Rick could remember howling like a wounded animal when it happened to him the first time, clawing at his belly like a beast and trying to open up the little bumps before the growing fungi could force their way out. 

Rick winced in more than just sympathy, grinding his teeth to keep from making a sound as the bumps along the back of his hand started to force themselves out as well. It hurt like a bitch, more than he remembered, but he refused to show weakness. Especially with Morty flipping the fuck out next to him. Rick's fingers started to turn white as he clenched the steering wheel. 

"Do something!" His grandson shrieked, writhing in the seat. "Do something, Rick! Anything! Please!" 

"What do you want me to do, Morty?" Rick barked. The pain from his own swollen, bursting pores made his tone sharper than he'd intended but Rick didn't take it back. "I can't fucking stop it, Morty! I told you!" 

"Rick!" 

The scientist whipped his head around. He was about to rip Morty a new one, telling him to just fucking endure it until he could do something about it, but when he saw Morty's face the words died on his tongue. 

 

 

Morty was infested with more spores than he'd expected. At least five of the little mounds had already ruptured, peppering Morty's face with little clusters of mushrooms like random patches of freckles, and Rick knew it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. There were at dozen or so more bumps on Morty's face, maybe more, but what really silenced him was the look in Morty's eyes. 

He was genuinely afraid. Terrified more like it, and Rick wondered if he'd looked like that way back when too. 

If Rick hadn't already known he was fucked where Morty was concerned, he would've succumbed to the knowledge in that moment. 

The older man swore viciously and started rummaging around his pockets, throwing useless items into the back and dropping them to the floorboards in his search. Eventually he pulled a small syringe from his pocket and abandoned any pretense of piloting the ship as he turned to Morty. 

"This is gonna knock your dick in the dirt, Morty. You'll pass the hell out and — and when you wake up, you'll be fine. Mostly. B-b-but your dreams — your dreams are gonna get  _ reeeaaaal _ interesting, Morty." 

"Like they aren't already." Morty gasped. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Rick might've taken amusement from it. 

"Alright, Morty," Rick said, pulling the cap off the needle with his teeth and spitting it who the fuck knows where. "You asked for it."

Rick buried the thing in Morty's thigh and slammed the plunger, watching as it took hold instantaneously, turning Morty into a drooling, twitching mess. 

The teen had no idea what he'd traded for pain relief. As Rick had learned after his second encounter with the hellish little spores, any sort of outside medical influence— aside from the antifungals necessary to kill off the mushrooms —ended up triggering an immediate hallucinogenic response as a means to protect themselves. In exchange for being completely unaware of the mushrooms sprouting from his body, Morty's brain was being flooded with chemicals. Chemicals sending him into a dream-based acid trip the likes of which Rick had never been able to properly recreate. Overwhelming was probably the single biggest understatement ever, and Rick didn't envy the state his grandson would likely be in by the time he woke up. 

Though, maybe if the teen was lucky, he'd get some altered state of mind epiphany out of it. 

Rick would've laughed if not for the pain radiating from the back of his hand. Even without an audience, Rick refused to acknowledge just how bad it hurt. 

He flew the ship back toward Earth like a man possessed, pushing it hard, even for him. Rick practically crushed Jerry's shitty car when he dropped his ship into the driveway, totally ignoring the agonizing screech of metal meeting concrete as he threw open the door and raced into the garage. 

It was hard to focus on anything but the burning, itching,  _ throbbing _ pain in his hand but Rick managed to keep a level head. He opened both faucets wide open into the metal sink beside the washer and, as it started to fill, he dumped an entire vial of pills into it. They barely had time to fizzle and dissolve before Rick plunged his hand into the water with a groan. 

It didn't exactly feel good but Rick didn't give a shit. It felt good enough. The water activated antifungals were doing their job and the mushrooms sprouting from his skin were withering away to nothing. Even with the pain, it was the most satisfying thing on Earth, and Rick watched the mushrooms shrivel and die with far too much satisfaction. 

Though, that feeling wasn't bound to last. 

The antifungals only solved half the problem. There were still the spore-swollen pockets trapped inside his pores that had to be cut out, along with the roots from the shriveled mushrooms that'd already sprung free, and Rick wasn't looking forward to that. Not with himself, and not with Morty. 

Speaking of. 

Rick shut off the water and pulled his hand free, shaking off the excess liquid as he made his way back out to the ship and hauled Morty inside. The kid was dead weight and he didn't even stir when Rick dumped him on a freshly revealed examination table. The boy was totally out of it, eyes rolled up into his head, drooling all over the place, and Rick wondered how that psychedelic dream was treating him. 

Rick stared at Morty a moment longer before reaching out to slip two fingers into the boy's mouth. His tongue was velvet soft against Rick's fingertips, slick and pliant, the inside of his cheeks like warm silk, and Rick groaned at the feeling. 

It was too bad, he decided, that this wasn't just another dream for him to exploit.

 

* * *

  
  


It took a little over four hours to extract all the fungal roots and their spores from both of them— four incredibly long, incredibly bloody hours, Rick thought with a huff —but, during that time, he had the most ingenious idea. It'd been staring him in the face the entire time, the  _ entire _ time, and Rick couldn't believe what an idiot he was for not recognizing the wonderful opportunity that'd dropped into his lap the moment he sent Morty frying. 

Morty was still passed the fuck out by the time Rick made his final incision in the back of his neck and extracted the dream inceptor. 

It was working fine, and Rick certainly had no desire to give up the power it afforded him, not by a long shot, but the scientist decided it could use a couple...  _ additions. _

The thought brought a slimy grin to Rick's lips and he chuckled darkly as he made some minor adjustments. 

He'd felt bad for Morty during the tail end of their fucked up little adventure but, now that they were out of immediate danger, Rick felt no guilt whatsoever for shifting his focus back over to his plan to manipulate the boy. He still had a goal to meet, after all, and adventure based mishaps came with the territory. They certainly weren't something either of them were unused to, and Rick was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Fiendish delight pooled in Rick's belly like lust as he made the final touches to the dream inceptor and the scientist didn't hesitate to cram the thing back into the open wound in Morty's neck. It'd latch on, with or without the organic liquid he'd used last time, and he'd be right back to crafting Morty's dreams in no time. Rick was sure of that. 

He sealed the incision with a glue-like substance a moment later. As Rick stared down at the brunet, he found himself pleased as fucking punch at what awaited his grandson. 

Morty had no fucking idea what was in store for him. He rarely did when Rick was involved, and Rick wasn't sure if that'd ever stop amusing him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten-thousand words of praise and affection to Organic (https://naughtyorganic.tumblr.com) For making this incredible piece of art. I couldn't possibly have asked for better and I'm infinitely grateful that I got to have you with me on this project.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next handful of days, Rick was extra attentive.

He was firm in his mental stance that it was all because he was waiting to see how Morty would react to his newest layer of manipulations but Rick also knew that wasn't quite the case. He felt protective of the boy. Possessive, even. More so than usual.

When Morty woke up from the trip Rick sent him on, he'd opened those ridiculously big green eyes that Rick secretly loved and it'd hit Rick in the chest like a plasma enhanced sludge hammer. Morty was _lost,_ vulnerable and exposed with the sort of childlike innocence that'd been dead to Rick for longer than his grandson had been alive, but there was something else there too. Even with that dazed, lack of awareness, Morty stared at him like he'd never seen him before, like he was wearing a whole new face or like he'd come to some deep revelation about him while he'd been away, one Rick would never have a hope of understanding. The feeling of been seen like that was borderline unnerving but Rick couldn't get enough of it. The moment Morty looked up at him with those mysteriously knowing, glassy eyes, all trusting and so fucking out of it that he couldn't see why trusting his grandpa was a terrible idea, he'd felt the blood in his veins change direction and flow south at an alarmingly fast rate. It left Rick's mouth dry, and when Morty carefully stood from the table, eyeing him like some predator he should be instinctively cautious of only to cast it all aside and launch himself forward to hug him, Rick counted himself miraculously lucky that Morty hadn't noticed the state he was in.

Rick wanted to see Morty like that again. He wanted to watch his grandson's eyes go glassy and unfocused as he floated through a sea of endorphins. He wanted Morty to look at him with those lost, knowing eyes just like he had the other day, and, despite knowing his plan still had a ways to go, Rick found himself growing impatient.

So Rick watched him.

He kept a constant eye on Morty. He watched him try to shake off the funk, watched him eat and meander the house and trudge downstairs with his backpack in the mornings before school. Watched him trade quips with Summer. Watched him get lost in thought. Watched him subtly avoid spending time with Jerry. But more than anything, Rick watched Morty _watch him._ He noticed the boy paying him more attention than usual. He noticed when Morty paused just to stare at him with that wrinkle between his eyebrows, like he was trying extra hard to work something out, and he most certainly noticed when Morty stopped whatever he was doing just to watch him leave a room. He watched Morty shift nervously when he sat too close, noticed the way he'd get just a little more anxious right before bed, no doubt wondering if tonight would be the night he had another dream about his grandpa, and Rick thrived on the high-strung energy his grandson exuded in those moments.

After the third night, Rick grew too impatient to wait any longer.

By the time Morty's dream inceptor confirmed that he'd slipped into REM sleep, Rick was already half hard and just itching to get things moving. The light was green for less than a ten seconds when Rick jumped into the boy's subconscious.

They were back in the garage. Morty was sitting up on the edge of the examination table, just as he had when he first woke up the other day, and even though his eyes weren't nearly as dazed and out of it as they'd been before, they were still watching him. _Seeing_ him. Rick was drooling. His body throbbed with want. The desire to corrupt Morty, to bend the teen to his will in every possible way imaginable — it sat on Rick's tongue like the sweetest temptation imaginable and Rick was morally skewed enough to reach for it with both hands.

Unlike the previous times he'd manipulated Morty's dreams, it was only the two of them this time. Rick wasn't satisfied being a third person spectator. Not in this case, and he didn't bother with the usual niceties as he dropped to his knees in front of Morty and vanished the brunet's pants. There was no hesitation on either side. Morty's fingers were tangled up in his hair in an instant. The boy was well versed in this game, and Rick idly wondered how many times Morty's subconscious had driven Rick to his knees when the older man didn't feel like sitting in on his dreams and commanding every little thing.

Without pause, Rick leaned over and swallowed Morty's cock down to the root like it was nothing, pulling a groan from both of them, but, for Rick, the sound was one edged with disappointment.

It was the first time he'd ever touched Morty like this, in a dream or otherwise, and Rick hadn't realized just how lacking the dreamscape actually was in terms of sensation. He could feel the weight of Morty's dick in his mouth, he could feel the most minute twitch against his tongue, but he couldn't feel the heat. He couldn't taste the salt of Morty's skin or the bitterness of his precum, couldn't feel the strain of his jaw as he started to bob his head in Morty's lap, and Rick found the experience woefully inadequate. It wasn't anything remotely close to the real thing and, while exciting, as that meant that Morty once again had no idea what was in store for him later on, Rick was here to cheat. He wanted to sample the goods early and now he was the one currently being cheated.

Rick didn't like not getting what he wanted, and he was grateful the cock in his mouth prevented him from scowling.

A swift tug on his hair brought Rick to the forefront of the situation and he moaned around Morty's cock. The sound was put on and not even remotely real but it still drew a gasp from Morty's lips and Rick hoarded the sound for himself with a smug burst of pride.

The brunet was rocking his hips. He was thrusting shallowly into Rick's mouth and staring down at the older man like he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of Rick being there and on his knees. It made Rick wonder if he'd gotten it wrong before. Maybe Morty _hadn't_ imagined this often. Maybe it was still a novel experience and Morty was stunned at the idea that Rick would want to suck him off, even in his dreams. A sharp tug at his hair had Rick quickly deciding that it really didn't matter either way and, even though Morty was losing some of that hesitancy and getting more rough with the grip on his hair, Rick didn't try and stop him. He just kept sucking. It was sloppy and unrefined and Rick was getting off on that more than he expected by the time Morty started to get even more aggressive, abusing his grip on Rick's hair to use his grandpa's mouth the way he wanted.

 

 

 

It was actually kinda hot; his shy, nervous little grandson using him like a fleshlight.

Rick gagged when Morty slammed forward. The action buried Morty's cock as deeply into Rick's throat as it could go, and the muscles in Rick's esophagus were spasming as Morty held him there, grinding his face into the little shit's pubes. He was right on edge, Rick could feel it. Spit dripped from his lips and the base of Morty's cock, making a disgusting mess of them both, and as Morty strained for his finish, Rick took supreme pleasure in launching Morty out of the dream and denying him once more.

Rick was painfully hard as he vacated the dream as well but he still dragged his ass out of bed and snuck down the hall towards Morty's room as quietly as he could.

There was no way Morty would be racing for the shower this time. Not with how close to orgasm he'd been just a few seconds ago. By the time Rick got to his door, he could already hear the tell-tale slap of skin-against-skin as Morty's jerked off and Rick slid a hand down his own pants when the boy started to whine with need.

Just as he'd expected, Morty tried to bury himself in denial. Just a few seconds later, Morty started quietly chanting Jessica's name, like the repetition would somehow keep him from imagining what he really wanted. It was so soft Rick almost missed it, but when Morty suddenly whimpered in shameful frustration a moment later, Rick had to stuff a fist into his mouth to avoid groaning right outside his grandson's door.

He could already imagine what Morty was seeing. What he was _feeling._ Arousal burning through his veins, need riding him hard, making him desperate to come, his hands practically shaking as he stroked himself, only to fail when he started to forcibly lose his erection.

 _Christ,_ Morty was going to be the death of him.

Rick's hand flew up and down his own shaft as he strained to listen, getting harder and harder at the pathetic little whines on the other side of the door. Morty wouldn't be getting off to Jessica ever again, or any other human girl for that matter, not until Rick decided otherwise, and when the teen suddenly gasped, Rick knew that he'd broken the boy's will. He had to be thinking of Rick now, the inceptor wouldn't let him stay hard otherwise, and it took everything Rick had to keep himself from moaning aloud.

Morty was just so easily manipulated. All it took was a couple dreams and a little incentive to have the boy falling right back into line, setting foot in every single one of Rick's little traps, and the knowledge had Rick dripping precome like a faucet. Morty would be his soon, all due to his own genius, according to his own clever, fucked up plan, and Rick clenched his teeth as pleasure overwhelmed him at the thought. It wouldn't take long now. Just a couple more weeks and Morty would be falling at his feet, begging for him, never once suspecting that his stupid little crush was entirely orchestrated. The sheer amount of fucked up narcissism that bubbled to the surface when Rick considered how fucking amazing he was just made him that much harder.

He could hear Morty moaning again. The boy was trying to be quiet, but Rick could still hear his muffled little sounds, and he wondered how much better it felt now that Morty had succumbed, allowing himself to _finally_ think about what was _really_ turning him on.

Rick heard a quiet gasp of his name from the other side of the door and he lost it. Pleasure shot through his system like a rocket and Rick nearly bit through his own lip to keep silent as he shot his load all over his hand and the inside of his sleep pants.

Silence fell over the darkened hallway a moment later and Rick held himself still as he listened. He could almost imagine that he could hear Morty's labored breathing, rough with both exertion and mild panic at what he'd just allowed himself to do, and as Rick crept back toward his room, accomplishment paved the way for the next portion of his plan.

 

* * *

 

Watching Morty go through the process of trying to accept what he'd done seemed to be a never ending source of entertainment for Rick.

Everyone else was ignorant to it, the entire family blissfully unaware of what was happening right under their noses. It made Rick's cock twitch with interest when he thought about it, and Rick's over-inflated ego continued to grow as he watched Morty struggle through. He could see the teen fighting it, first with denial and then with anger, but that eventually passed too. After a while, Morty seemed to just give up, accepting this new addition to his life as yet another fucked up side effect of the craziness Rick brought into their house. Rick basked in the glory of it.

He watched Morty with a deceptively indifferent eye, cackling internally at every blush, turning smug when Morty was forced to flee the room with an unmistakable erection, sighing contently as Morty watched him when he thought he wasn't looking. After a while, Rick didn't even have to send Morty dreams anymore. He still did, because he felt like it from time to time, but it wasn't necessary. Morty's mind had been taught to dream about him, and now the lumpy mass of gelatinous chemicals conjured fantasies without his help as Morty slept and Rick was beyond impressed with his own work.

It wouldn't be long now, Rick thought with a hum. Morty was right on the edge, and when that tiny wisp of thought was immediately followed by his grandson slipping nervously into the garage and locking the door behind him, Rick's smile turned downright wicked.

Not long, indeed.

"Hey uh, hey Rick? Can I um, can I talk to you for a sec?"

Rick spun on his barstool to look at Morty and his stomach flipped with excitement when he realized just how nervous Morty really was. Tugging at the hem of his shirt, shifting from foot to foot, pink cheeked and starting to sweat, Morty was an anxious little mess and Rick loved knowing exactly what was on the boy's mind. As well as what was going to come out of his mouth. It was just too easy.

Rick tried not to look too interested and he rolled his eyes as he turned back to his project. "Yeah, sure, Morty. Whatever. But you're gonna have to do it over here because I'm busy."

Morty made an unhappy sound at that, obviously wanting his complete and undivided attention, but Rick refused to give it to him. He ignored the teen and took a swig from his flask, belching a second later as he focused on the task at hand. He was covering a thin, mucus strand hovering just above a mound of powdered xanthamite with the spores they collected from the mushroom planet the other day. Rick chuckled when Morty appeared beside him and made a disgusted sound.

"I can't believe you're actually using that stuff a-after what happened, Rick." Morty said bitterly and Rick just rolled his eyes a second time.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me, Morty. Next time I make a — a groundbreaking scientific breakthrough that changes the way we travel through space and reality, I'll take your fungi distaste into account."

Morty huffed but Rick just kept on working, coating the mucus thoroughly and waiting for the xanthanite to start reacting to its presence.

"What did you need, Morty?" He asked after a drawn out moment of silence, basking in the discomfort that radiated from Morty's body like rays from the sun.

"Well uh, I was just wondering if you... If you ever, um..."

Rick looked away from his project and held Morty still with a look that bordered on the edge of a glare. "If I what, Morty. Spit it out."

The boy gulped. "I just wondered if you ever had dreams a-about stuff you shouldn't."

"Morty. I haven't dreamed since like 2003. Can you just skip to the end and get to the point where you tell me what your problem is?"

Morty's cheeks flushed darkly and he gaped like a fish, obviously trying to get the words to come out. Rick sighed with frustration and ran a hand down his face with a second, more tired sigh.

"Okay, Morty," Rick said, looking for all intents and purposes as if he were giving in and simply trying to make things easier on Morty. In some ways he was. But not for Morty's benefit. "What are you dreaming about that's _—euuurp_ — that's got your panties in a twist?"

Morty wrung his hands together. He looked so ashamed, unable to meet Rick's eyes as he tried to find the courage to just admit it, and Rick could feel himself reacting to the situation.

"C'mon, Morty." Rick groaned. "Shit or get off the pot, kid, what the fuck is up with you?"

"You." Morty whispered. "I'm dreaming a-about you, Rick."

Rick went purposefully still, holding his spore applicator just a few millimeters away from his project before setting it down to very slowly turn and look at Morty.

"What."

Big, shame-filled green eyes brimmed with tears and Rick barely kept himself from groaning when those eyes suddenly spilled over, sending a flurry of tears cascading down the boy's cheeks. He looked so broken, so scared and upset and ready to be rejected in the most painfully humiliating way possible, and Rick had to look away before he got any harder than he already was.

"Morty, I—"

The boy steamrolled over him, bursting into a rambled out explanation of the chemical locker and the dream he had, vaguely mentioning the dreams that'd followed that and how he couldn't get off without thinking about Rick and Rick had to fight from grounding his palm down against his overly interested cock. He'd never expected Morty to be so devastated, or so completely forthcoming, and the temptation to shove the teen to his knees and fuck his trembling mouth was incredibly strong.

He'd wanted this, waited for it, prepared for it, _planned_ it out step by step, but when Rick looked down into Morty's tear covered face, he realized that it still wasn't enough. Not yet. He could take Morty now, he'd planned to, but Rick knew that he hadn't pushed the situation as far as he could've. This was just the first course, and Rick wasn't willing to pass up something even more delicious simply because he couldn't control himself.

Poor Morty.

Rick swallowed hard enough for it to be visible. "Look..."

Rick paused, as though he were battling with himself, and cast a look up and down Morty's body. His gaze lingered on the boy's crotch, and then flickered to his mouth, and Rick was positive Morty hadn't missed it.

"I — I'm not..." Rick finally met Morty's gaze, trying to appear panicked but in control. "I'm not one of those Ricks, Morty."

The brunet looked confused for a split second before his eyes practically glowed at the gem of information. It was strategically placed, the knowledge that Ricks engaging in a sexual relationship with their grandsons wasn't all that uncommon, and Morty's breathing started to quicken when Rick forced himself to look vaguely uncomfortable.

"You're a — a good kid, Morty, a-and it was real ballsy of you to just up and tell me but fuck, kid. I'm your grandpa. You can't just—" Rick turned away from Morty and focused on his project, breathing quickly and trying to pay attention to Morty's reactions as he unconvincingly shut down the teen's advances. "We can't do this, Morty. It's wrong."

"When have you ever cared about right and wrong!" Morty protested. The kid might not have been a genius but he certainly knew a flimsy deflection when we saw one and Rick couldn't help being the tiniest bit proud of him for trying to stand up against it. "We robbed the Kokka palace yesterday! We killed people escaping! A-a-and that doesn't even — you're always saying how nothing matters and that a planetary mindset is for idiots! You fucked an assimilated giraffe, Rick! Why is this—"

"Because you're my grandson!" Rick snapped. He slammed the tool in his hand down on the workbench, internally smirking when Morty jumped, and he glared at his grandson. "You're my grandson, Morty. My fucking _grandson_. My daughter's kid! Wh-what the hell did you think was gonna happen?"

Morty looked both hurt and deeply confused by his outburst but Rick ignored it and kept right on going.

"Did you think we were gonna hook up if you confessed? Huh? Are we gonna — are we gonna be boyfriends and have some fucked up love affair, Morty? Sneaking around and fucking where nobody can see? Real — real fuckin' nice, Morty. Real nice. And then what? We get caught? We run away together and live happily ever after? I don't fucking think so, Morty."

Morty was shaking, flooded with adrenaline from the anxiety of Rick yelling at him. His eyes brimming with tears once more, and Rick placed the cherry on top of his performance when he darted his gaze back to Morty's mouth and licked his lips.

"But Rick..."

"Get out, Morty." Rick said, looking away from Morty's face and pretending he didn't see Morty glance down at his crotch, subsequently coming to the realization that his grandpa was hard.

"Rick—"

"No, Morty," He snapped, pointing toward the house. "Inside. Now. This conversation is over."

Morty looked like he wanted to argue, his little face screwed up in a stubborn expression, and the moment he turned his back, Rick grinned. Their conversation wasn't even remotely close to over, not by a long shot, and as Morty stalked into the house, slamming the door behind him, Rick knew he'd made the right call in drawing out his game just a little longer.

  


* * *

  


After that, it was just a matter of letting Morty seduce him.

It was painfully obvious what Morty was trying to do, lacking in any and all subtlety, but Rick refrained from calling Morty out on it. No matter how annoying or tedious his grandson became.

Rick kept his mouth firmly shut as Morty started spending more and more time in the garage. He refused to comment on the boy watching him work as he ran that slick, pink tongue up and down a frankly absurd amount of popsicles, sucking them in and making a show of fellating them whenever Rick glanced his way. He pretended not to notice the way Morty batted his eyelashes like some broad on a bad soap opera. He accepted it when Morty pressed their bodies together when they were forced to hide on adventures and when he'd "accidentally" brush his ankle against Rick's beneath the dinner table. Rick remained on his best behavior, letting Morty sit far too close to him, letting Morty touch him more than he ever had, ignoring the boy as he moaned out Rick's name through the door like an invitation everytime he passed by Morty's room on his way to bed.

It was exhausting. Despite being somewhat endearing, and more than a little amusing at times, Morty was starting to piss him off. It was like Morty was pushing the envelope just to see how much he could get away with. The teen was constantly underfoot, constantly popping up out of nowhere, throwing everything he had at Rick to get his attention, and it was taking all Rick's energy not to lash out and rip his grandson a new one. He let himself snap every so often, when Morty went just a little too far, but it was never enough. He never got to fully unload on the boy, and he couldn't just throw him down and fuck the hell out of him to make things better. Not yet. It was taking a toll.

But Rick used that to his advantage.

He allowed Morty to believe he was wearing him down.

He stopped trying as hard not to look at Morty. If the boy bent over and his ass looked good, Rick let himself look. Openly. Sometimes he lingered for just a little too long outside Morty's door when the boy was putting on a show for him, enjoying the sound of Morty getting off with his name on his lips. At times, he couldn't stop himself from touching. When Morty would press up against him in small spaces, Rick let himself press up against his grandson's ass and, on one particular instance, he stepped free of their hiding spot and "subtly" readjusted his hard on.

It was definitely a game, toying with Morty and watching him dance, giving in just enough to keep the teen interested and desperate to have something happen, but Rick was nearing the end of his patience.

It'd been just over two months since Morty broke his portal gun. Just over two months of tormenting his grandson with sexual dreams and a carefully nurtured crush, and Rick was starting to lose interest in the game. He wanted some pay out, a reward for all his efforts, and, in addition to his new portal gun being almost completely finished, Rick wanted to start a _new_ game. One that involved toying with Morty throughout the multiverse as they dove back into their adventures.

It was that desire that lead to Rick giving in a little sooner than planned and upping the stakes with Morty.

Everyone else had long since gone to bed but Rick knew he wasn't the only one still awake. Even from downstairs, lounging on the couch, Rick could hear Morty moving around in his room. The teen was being quiet since it was after 2am but Rick still heard him and, when Morty opened the door— most likely to use the bathroom and then head to bed —Rick palmed himself through his pants and let out a soft moan.

Movement stilled upstairs and Rick knew that he'd captured Morty's attention. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing, but Rick pretended to be totally ignorant to Morty's existence as he spread his legs a little wider and tilted his head back against the couch. He wasn't fully hard yet but the material of his trousers was still restricting and uncomfortable. It didn't take him long to unzip and free himself from it and Rick grinned to himself when he heard Morty gasp from the top of the stairs.

It seemed almost comically ridiculous that Morty was falling for this particular trap. As if he'd ever be so stupid as to get off to his grandson in the living room of all places. It was absurd. If he had an interest in his grandson he wanted to keep secret, he could've just gotten off in the garage, or his room, or in another fucking dimension if his portal gun wasn't busted, but the living room at night? That was just stupid. Even for Rick. Regardless, Morty wanted to believe what he wanted to believe and Rick wasn't willing to complicate it if the end result was the same.

Still, it was a bit insulting. If he could hear a gazldorf sneeze from 15 clicks, he could definitely hear Morty creeping on the stairs to watch him get off and Morty should've known that.

Annoyance flowed through Rick but he ignored it in favor of putting on a show for Morty. He stroked himself with a slow, tight-fingered grasp. His breathing started to get more ragged after a few minutes and Rick hissed quietly when he started to thumb the tip of his cock.

"Fuck, baby, yeah. Just like that." He breathed, speeding up his strokes just a fraction.

Rick could hear Morty jerking off behind him and even though it should've pissed him off further that the teen really thought he wouldn't notice, Rick didn't let himself dwell on that. He imagined how Morty must look, wide eyed and amazed that he was even seeing this, and Rick let that fuel him.

On his next downward stroke, Rick slipped his foreskin all the way down and moaned when his shaft was completely exposed. He'd gotten himself off enough times to know that it must be flushed near the head by now, the tip all slick, and Rick held it firmly by the base as he gave his cock a small shake.

"Suck it for me, baby," Rick murmured, a small thrill going through him when he heard a soft whine from the stairs. "Take grandpa's cock into that sweet little mouth."

The gasp that followed that statement was too loud for Rick to even pretend to ignore and he stilled. The older man lifted his head, acting like he was listening for anyone coming, but when nothing happened, Rick settled back in against the couch and extracted a small packet of lube from his coat. He ripped off the corner with his teeth. Even though it was cold, he held his cock still with one hand and drizzled lube straight from the foil with the other, hissing loudly and bucking his hips up toward the slick substance as it dripped down his shaft.

 _"Fuck."_ Rick groaned, smearing lube all over his cock as he finally started to pump himself.

He wasn't normally as vocal by himself but Rick didn't even really need to pretend. It felt good, especially with the lube, and putting on a show for Morty was enough to make it better than just basic masturbation.

Rick stroked his cock with startling efficiency. He could've easily dragged it out longer but, like Morty back in his ship all that time ago, Rick didn't want to chance somebody else finding him. His daughter and her idiot were still upstairs and Rick didn't want to deal with the fallout of either of them stumbling across this little scene. He didn't rush it unnecessarily, but Rick stopped teasing himself. He stroked his cock with a lifetime of practice in his movements, rocking into it, and he enjoyed the simple pleasure of being watched. 

"Morty..." Rick moaned, giving a sharper thrust into his own hand, and his cock twitched when the hiding teen moaned unexpectedly.

There was silence behind him and it took Rick a stupidly long time to realize that Morty had come from the sound of Rick saying his name rather than simply pausing to avoid detection and Rick nearly snorted and ruined the whole thing. What a total virgin. Rick couldn't wait to actually get his hands on Morty. He'd make the boy come over and over until he was sobbing from it. He'd wring orgasms out of that lithe little body until Morty was begging him to stop and the mental image of exactly that made Rick groan.

"Take it, Morty, take it." Rick grunted, thrusting more aggressively into his hand.

He was starting to get close and he knew it wouldn't be much longer. Even still, Rick heard the soft, slick sound of Morty stroking himself so he knew the teen must've started up again. He could certainly outlast his teenage grandson, even in a hurry, and Rick put his all into his little performance.

He started to squirm on the couch, panting openly and alternating between fucking his hand and stripping his cock with fast, brutal strokes. Rick didn't bother building anything up. He kept moaning out Morty's name quietly, detailing out where his imaginary fantasy was supposed to be with a few murmured out words here and there so the teen could follow, telling Morty to take his cock, telling him how good he was doing, breathlessly telling the teen to beg for it. Even Rick could appreciate the picture he was trying to paint for Morty but, as he neared the end, he started thinking about something entirely different.

His stupid, gullible, easily manipulated little grandson was right where he wanted him, beating off behind him because that's what _Rick_ wanted. And he still wasn't done. Rick had an ace up his sleeve and Morty didn't even know it. Rick had one final trap to lay out, a final hit in the boss battle of their game, and Morty was never going to see it coming. After that, it'd be over. Morty would be his, no matter what, and it was all because he'd decided that's what he wanted. Morty was his, under his control, swayed by the influence Rick had in his life that he couldn't even see, and the idea of controlling the boy so thoroughly while Morty was entirely ignorant to it pushed Rick over the edge.

Blue eyes snapped open the moment he crested and Rick gasped far louder than he meant to as he came all over his hand, spurting rope after sticky rope all over himself. It was fucking wonderful, the pleasure flowing and ebbing as it radiated through him, and Rick quickly collapsed against the back of the couch as he enjoyed the afterglow.

He didn't hear anything from Morty, which told Rick that the boy had probably already gotten off a second time, and that just brought a gleeful smile to Rick's lips.

One more move and the game would be over.

 

* * *

  


Later that night, sitting on his bed, staring at the tiny green light on his inceptor, Rick allowed himself one last chance to think about what he was about to do and to decide whether or not to go through with it.

Rick didn't consider himself to be an overly fickle man. He changed his mind often enough, sure, but once he had a plan, he usually stuck to it. If there was something he wanted, he took it. It really was that simple, it always had been, but looking down at the dream inceptor, Rick was forced to recognize that what he was about to do couldn't be so easily undone. If things got bad he could always erase Morty's memories, sure, or even abandon the dimension and his failed project altogether, but Rick was hesitant to consider either of those things a solid alternative of he ended up regretting his decision.

And there was a very real chance he might.

Right off the bat, he'd told himself he never wanted to have a sexual relationship with Morty because of the bullshit levels of sentiment attached to it. The whole thing seemed like way too much effort, it still did in some ways, but Rick also acknowledged that, by doing this, he wouldn't be able to avoid that aspect of Morty's response. There would be sentiment. There would be emotions. Morty would be attached to him in a way he'd often found distasteful...

But something had changed.

Rick still found the idea of Morty's emotional clinging unpleasant. He wasn't looking forward to some of the hoops he might have to jump through because of it, but Rick was startled— and somewhat annoyed —to realize that he _liked_ the idea too. He _liked_ Morty. He enjoyed toying with him, liked teasing him in this way, liked the thought of owning Morty's body, possessing him, and ultimately backing Morty into a corner where he'd be Rick's for as long as either of them were alive. Rick _wanted_ this, and though it disgusted him to think about, his little act wasn't entirely put on.

Morty aroused him. Morty inspired him sometimes. Morty reminded him that he was human and that there were things he cared about. And, despite having a clear shot at fucking the boy and leaving it at that, he'd been the one to move on from that. He'd been the one to take it a step further.

It was his choice. And Rick was making it based on what he wanted. Not what Morty wanted.

Rick didn't allow himself another moment to think before slipping the inceptor into his ear and flicking it on.

He was out and submerged in Morty's dream before his head hit the pillow and, as the third party stepping into the middle of a dream Morty was already having, Rick was pleased to discover that his dream self was already buried balls deep in his grandson's ass. Their coupling was filthy — Morty on his hands and knees with Dream Rick wrenching his head back by a merciless grip on his hair, sweat slicking their bodies, muscles quivering, his doppelganger growling out a nasty slew of words that dipped their toes in the realm of degrading. It was the exact opposite of the message he planned to convey.

Rick sat back and watched with detached interest. That would be him soon. His actual self. He'd probably spend more time sneaking around the house and fucking Morty's brains out than he wanted to admit. It wouldn't be a bad thing. Convenience was a goddamn luxury and Rick enjoyed the idea of having a needy, willing body just a couple doors down from him, but he wondered if it'd ever get old.

He hummed quietly, watching his dream self pull out and tease Morty's little hole before slamming back inside.

His grandson was certainly responsive. He wasn't surprised so many other versions of them ended up fucking and he idly wondered how many Ricks had been ruined by a Morty.

Rick could see that Morty was nearing his peak. It was obvious in every line of his body, the way he threw himself into every stroke, trying to get more, and though he'd been content to simply watch it play out up until that point, Rick swiftly took control of the dream.

His dream self moved like a game avatar, following his unspoken commands, and Rick watched with greedy eyes as his doppelganger hauled Morty up against his chest and started to slow down. Morty looked confused by the sudden change, a whimper slipping from his lips at the loss, but he didn't complain. Dream Rick was fucking him in slow, shallow strokes, mercilessly rubbing the head of his dick against Morty's prostate and the boy started to whine with need.

"You're so good for me, baby," Rick thought, watching the words leave his avatar's mouth. "Such a good boy, letting grandpa fuck you whenever he wants. Such a sweet, tight little hole for my cock."

Morty bucked against the hold Rick had on him but his dream self didn't let the teen escape. He just wrapped him up tighter, stroking the teen’s dick as he took him apart with barely any effort whatsoever, and when Morty was right on the brink of falling apart, Rick made his move.

His doppelganger nipped Morty's ear and, on Rick's command, whispered, "I love you, Morty. I love you and I love fucking you."

Rick watched those words take hold of Morty like a curse and suddenly the boy was falling apart. Morty shattered in Dream Rick's arms, both emotionally and physically, and came hard all over the bedsheets. Rick quickly left his avatar with one final command to cuddle the brunet close before exiting the dream altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So stoked to get this chapter out and show off RickxoxoMorty's amazing work! I actually really loved that scene and so I'm biasedly glad that you chose to do something for it lol Thank you for all your hard work and for making this possible for me! If you wanna check out their blog, you can find them here: https://rickxoxomorty.tumblr.com!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks! The conclusion of Rick's dastardly plan and, subsequently, the end of this fic(: I really enjoyed writing this. It was a little bit out of my comfort zone but I'm really satisfied with how it turned out and I'm honored to have it as part of the Big Bang collection! Big thank you to KlaxAddict for making the Big Bang a possibility and thank you to both Organic and RickxoxoMorty for the time and effort they put into making art for this fic. You guys are the best. 
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Clair

The days that followed reminded Rick very much of Morty's response to that very first dream. 

Even though he'd been a constant, flirtatious pain in Rick's ass for weeks, the boy avoided him like the plague. Morty wouldn't look at him, wouldn't sit and watch TV with him, wouldn't even eat if Rick was seated beside him. He didn't want to go on adventures, didn't want to help Rick in the garage, and when Rick  _ did _ drag him out, when he demanded his help against Morty's will, the boy barely spoke a word. It was almost unnerving, and if Rick hadn't been fully aware of what was going on, he would've feared that he legitimately damaged Morty with his initial rejection.

Still, Rick left it alone for a little while.

He gave Morty some time to process, letting the fruits of his efforts ripen in as much peace as he was capable of offering, and when Morty started to finally begin to accept his newfound feelings, he made his move.

"Morty! Morty, c'mere!" Rick hollered, grinning excitedly down at his workbench. When his grandson didn't immediately appear, Rick yelled for him again. "Don't make me drag your mopey little ass down here, Morty!"

After what felt like an eternity, Morty finally appeared and stepped into the garage. "Yeah, Rick? What is it?"

The older man turned to face his grandson and held up his newly re-made portal gun.

"Check it out, Morty! New a-and fuckin' improved!"

Morty's face lit up in genuine interest for the first time in days and Rick's heart did a stupid little flip when the little shit took a few steps closer and leaned in to examine it.

"Wow, Rick! That's so cool! I can't believe it been almost — almost three months since we went out on our normal adventures."

Rick nodded eagerly in agreement and casually started to babble about all the things they had to do now. He was thrilled to get back out there, plan or no plan, but when he glanced back at Morty rather than at the gun, he noticed Morty's smile start falter and fall apart around the edges. The boy looked so vulnerable, like he was going to break, and it shouldn't have excited him as much as it did.

"Morty..."

"No, Rick, it's cool. Really cool y'know? I'm glad it's fixed. I've just gotta..." Morty jerked his thumb toward the door and turned to leave but Rick reached out and pulled him to a stop with a hand around his wrist.

"Rick," Morty said, his voice shaking, "Please don't—"

"I'm sorry."

Morty looked at him with wide eyes and Rick refused to acknowledge how much that affected him. He wasn't sorry, not really, but there was a slim part of him that  _ did _ regret slamming Morty with something so devastating simply for his own amusement. It was a pretty fucked up thing to do, but that was just Rick. He was a fucked up person, through and through, and that would never change. It didn't matter now, though. Rick had no intention of leaving the boy in misery. He was a bastard but not that much.

"You're..."

"Sorry. Yeah, Morty."

The brunet was looking at him like he'd grown a third head and Rick sighed, the sound entirely real as he released Morty and met his gaze in a serious manner.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Morty." Rick started, watching with keen eyes as Morty winced and looked away. "I just wanted to protect you, Morty. For once."

His grandson frowned at that and the expression looked especially bitter on his face.

"Protect me?" Morty repeated. The words were calmly spoken but, to Rick, they were spit out like they left a bad taste in Morty's mouth, and for a split second Rick actually wondered if the boy had somehow managed to see through him. "Protect me from what?"

"From yourself." Morty barked out a laugh but the sound fell short when Rick followed that statement with a quiet, "And from me."

There was a look of confused loss on Morty's face, like he didn't know what to do, what to say or how to feel, and it felt easier than breathing for Rick to adorn a grandfatherly facade and herd Morty where he needed him to go.

"Look, Morty. You're young. Hey! Don't give me that shit or try to argue with me, you are. You're young, Morty. You're not even technically an adult yet, and having sex with your grandpa is not how you wanna start your life, okay?"

"But  _ why?" _ Morty begged.

"Because, Morty!" Rick snapped. "You really wanna fuck up your life because you got a boner over some dream? You wanna — wanna sit in therapy when you're fuckin' — when you're forty and you realize that I took advantage of you and molested you or some shit when you were a teenager? You want to make every Christmas dinner between now and the time I'm dead an awkward fucking disaster because you've moved on and you're dating some girl and your ex that nobody can ever know about is at the dinner table? Do you understand the ramifications of this, Morty?"

The boy was looking at him with big eyes, apparently not having thought that far ahead, and Rick nearly rolled his eyes in his grandson's face.

"It's  _ incest, _ Morty." He reiterated. "It's one of the only things that's taboo in almost every single dimension I know. I'm your  _ grandpa, _ Morty. Your grandpa. Do you — do you get that? You were born because I created your mother, Morty. Fucking think about it."

And Morty did, for a minute. But, just as Rick knew he would, Morty turned his nose up at the conveniently offered out. "I don't care."

Rick adopted an incredulous look. "You don't — Morty!"

"No, Rick! I let you talk and now it's my turn!" Morty stubbornly insisted.

Rick hmphed and crossed his arms over his chest but gave Morty the floor, nearly vibrating with excitement at what he knew was coming.

"I love you, Rick." 

The older man released the breath he'd been holding with a whoosh, feeling his old, decrepit heart clench at actually hearing Morty say those words so strong and sure. He hadn't expected to feel much of anything, especially since he orchestrated those feelings and brought them to life in his grandson, but it still made Rick want to give up the charade and finally make Morty his. 

Morty rubbed his arm self consciously. "It's a really bad idea, Rick. I know that. A-a-and I know it might, y'know... End badly. But I want this, Rick. I want  _ you. _ I want it so bad... And I know you want me too, Rick. I saw you masturbating, I heard you say my name. Please, Rick, let's just try! Don't try and pretend you haven't been—"

He thought he'd have more control. Rick thought he'd be able to stay silent and let Morty "talk him into it" on his own but, in a legitimate show of emotion, Rick finally broke. He hauled Morty in by the hold he had on his wrist and kissed him like he was starving, claiming his grandson's mouth with an overeager growl.

He'd been waiting for this, wanting it, and now that he was ravaging Morty's mouth, slipping his tongue past the teen's lips and laying claim to the inside of his mouth with more possession than he ever imagined, Rick realized that he  _ needed _ it too. He  _ needed  _ Morty, and if the way Morty was desperately clinging to him meant anything at all, then his grandson felt the exact same.

Rick batted his tongue against Morty's for another moment longer before separating their mouths, much to Morty's displeasure. The boy looked like he was on the verge of begging him to come back but Rick didn't have time for the brunet's whining. Without even thinking, Rick shot a portal on the floor and shoved Morty into it before stepping through himself.

It was not a portal to another world, as Rick imagined his first journey would've been. It wasn't even a portal  _ off _ world. It led them both directly to Rick's room, right to his bed in fact, and the older man growled once more as he tossed the newly made gun aside and wrangled Morty onto his back, taking swift control over the situation.

Morty didn't seem to mind. If anything, he was more than okay with the way Rick was ravaging his throat, sucking hard and deep at the pale skin there, biting big mouthfuls of it, and for a split second Rick wondered how often Morty invited this sort of roughness into his own fantasies. It didn't matter, he decided a moment later. Nothing mattered as long as Morty didn't tell him to stop, and Rick fully intended on reaping the rewards of his efforts and taking Morty as his spoils of war.

"You want grandpa to fuck you, Morty?" Rick hissed in his grandson's ear, grabbing the younger man's thigh and hitching it over his hip. "You've been desperate for my attention, haven't you? You think I didn't notice? Gagging yourself on a fucking popsicle just to get a taste of my dick, Morty? You're filthy."

Morty was a writhing mess beneath Rick's hands, whining at the dirty truths Rick was shoving in his face, and the smile adorning Rick's lips turned downright predatory when Morty nodded in agreement.

"What was that, baby?" Rick questioned, grinding his hips down against Morty's with a pleased grunt. "You want my cock, Morty? Well fuckin' say it."

"I want y-your — your cock, Rick." Morty whined, grabbing at his back and trying to rock more desperately against him through their clothes.

Rick smirked and reached between their bodies to grab Morty's dick, snickering when it pulled a yelp from the boy's lips. "You sure you can handle it, Morty? Sure you won't come as soon as I take your pants off? I'm not so sure."

Morty shook his head, sniffling pathetically in denial as Rick rubbed him through his pants. "I won't! I won't, Rick, I p-p-p— I promise!"

"We'll see."

Rick abandoned Morty's neck, and he grinned smugly when Morty grabbed his hair and tried to tug him back up, but Rick wasn't willing to be dissuaded. He shoved the boy's shirt roughly out of the way, bunching it up under his armpits without any intention of actually taking it off, and started to bite a trail down Morty's belly. He was being rougher than he'd intended but Morty seemed to be loving it. The teen was a live wire under his mouth, moaning and whining and begging him to hurry, and Rick was grateful that he'd soundproofed his room years ago.

"Jesus, Morty." Rick said, his voice teasing and almost condescending when he reached Morty's groin and realized the teen was actually leaking enough to make a wet spot through the denim. "Excited much, baby?"

A blush scalded Morty's face and part of his exposed chest at the teasing and Rick just snickered.

"Such a little virgin." Rick teased as he shimmied Morty's pants down and threw them off to the side.

Indignance flooded Morty's expression and Rick immediately knew the teen wasn't even remotely worked up enough. "I'm not a virgin, Rick!" He insisted.

Leaning down, Rick sucked the wet spot directly above the head of Morty's dick with a moan, ignoring him for the time being. This was so much better than the dream. He could taste just how bitter Morty was this time. He could smell his arousal and the desperation and the salty scent of sweat rolling off his skin and Rick couldn't believe that he'd actually managed to avoid taking the boy this way for so long. 

Rick ripped the boxers from Morty's body with a snarl and stared at his straining length. Christ, the brunet was aroused. He was staring down at Rick like he'd die if the older man didn't do something and Rick took extreme pleasure in the way Morty's cock twitched up toward him when he blew a stream of warm air against it.

"Look at how bad you want it, Morty. You're  _ straining. _ You want my mouth, baby? Is that it? You want me to suck you off?"

Morty nodded frantically, babbling out his need, but Rick ignored him. He swiped his tongue over the head of Morty's dick, dragging a needy cry from the teen, and then pulled back.

"I don't think so, baby. Remember your promise? You'll definitely come if I get my mouth around your cute little dick."

Morty looked torn between crying at the loss and being pissed off that Rick called his dick little  _ and _ cute, but Rick didn't have a problem wiping that look off his face when he suddenly grabbed Morty's cock and started pumping in in his hand. The body beneath him jolted and Morty grabbed at the sheets, squealing up a storm as Rick tortured him with enough sensation to make him sensitive but not nearly enough to get him off. It was gorgeous, watching Morty struggle with it, whining and mewling while he squirmed and tried not to thrust into Rick's hand, and the older man sighed contently as the picture Morty painted.

"Such a needy slut."

Rick extracted another packet of lube from his coat and ripped the corner off, just as he'd done before. Morty's eyes were already glassy and aroused before but his pupils blew wide when he watched Rick mimic the action from the other night. Rick's smirk turned seedy and wicked as he watched Morty shake with need. His lips were trembling as Rick drizzled the liquid over his fingers and, when Rick reached under him and touched his pointer finger to his ass, Morty squeaked.

"You said you weren't a virgin," Rick purred. "But I bet you've never been fucked here, have you Morty? You've probably never had anything in this little hole."

Rick circled the tight muscle with as much patience as he possibly possessed and groaned when he finally slipped it inside and Morty clenched around him.

_ "Fuck, _ baby. Yeah. Let me feel how tight you are."

The praise was meant to be soothing, an encouragement as it were, but it was just twisting Morty tighter. He was leaking all over himself, making a puddle on his skin, and Rick watched Morty's cock bob and twitch as he pumped his finger in and out. His grandson was tight as hell, definitely a virgin as far as anal went, and Rick couldn't wait to break him in.

It took way too long to get a second finger inside of him, and Rick knew from the pained little whimper and the way Morty's cock started to flag that he'd pushed the third in way too fast as well, but he was tired of waiting. He was ready to rut against the bed if it gave him some relief and Rick wanted to be buried in his grandson's virgin hole.

Rick surged up to kiss Morty. It was filthy and sloppy with too much tongue and not nearly enough coordination but that was to be expected. Morty was desperate and ready to break and Rick was impatient and it felt fucking divine to shuck his pants off and pull his cock free of his underwear. He'd barely undressed at all but Rick wasn't willing to stop them to lose the clothes. There would be other times, he was sure, but at that moment he needed Morty and he needed him  _ now. _

A startled squeak left Morty's lips when Rick rolled them both over and put him on top but he didn't fight it. He merely looked at Rick with wide, startled eyes and gasped when Rick thrust his hips up against his ass.

"I want you to ride me, Morty." Rick demanded with a growl. "Bounce on grandpa's cock and show me just how bad you want it."

Morty could almost be described as glitchy when he nodded and his hands shook when he reached for the lube. Unlike Rick, he was actually patient enough to warm it in his hand a little before he smeared it over Rick's dick, pulling a hiss of pleasure from the other man's lips. It was perfect, a warm and silky glide, and when Morty took his hand away and positioned himself over Rick's shaft, Rick just wanted to be inside of him that much more.

He took hold of the younger man's hips, digging his fingertips in, and when he met Morty's gaze, his dick jumped.

"Do you trust me, Morty?"

The kid didn't even hesitate to agree and Rick threw his head back as he pulled Morty's hips down and buried himself to the hilt inside. A scream echoed around his room and Rick just tightened his grip with a groan, trying not to shoot his load as Morty's body strangled his dick. Morty shouldn't have trusted him. It was stupid of him to trust Rick, with his body or his heart, but the little shit was stupid enough to do it and he felt incredible around Rick's cock. It was fucking heaven. If there was a heaven, Rick definitely wasn't going there, but he was fine with that as long as he got to stay buried in his grandson's hot, sweet ass.

Rick couldn't wait for Morty to adjust all the way. After less than a minute he was bouncing the boy in his lap, moaning as Morty whimpered and whined through the pain. Morty was trying to hide it but Rick could see his lashes were damp with a few unshed tears and it made Rick feel harder than ever.

"So good, baby.  _ So good. _ You feel so fucking perfect around me, Morty, so hot and tight, Christ. So fucking good around my cock, baby."

Rick nearly choked when Morty took over and started riding him for real. His movements were shaky and not altogether perfect but it was fucking wonderful and Rick laid back and took it as his due, continuing to praise Morty through the teeth as his grandson took him to another fucking galaxy.

Looking down between them, Rick realized that Morty was only about half hard and he immediately reached for him, drawing a gasp from the teen as he started to stroke him.

"My cock not enough, baby? You need me to play with your little dick to get you going? Huh, baby?"

It wasn't actually all that small, not in Rick's opinion, but he loved the way Morty's face flushed with embarrassment and he could feel it making Morty hard. It was a double win in his opinion and Rick just smirked as he started jerking Morty off, pulling the most guttural sounds from the teen's throat as he fucked up into him.

Rick paid special attention to Morty's face as the brunet started to tense on top of him, slamming himself down on Rick's shaft much harder than before. He was right on the edge, desperate to come, and Rick was eager to see his face. That's what'd started everything, after all, their entire game brought to life because Rick wanted to see Morty's face as he came. The older man wasn't disappointed in the least when Morty's stopped breathing and fell heavily onto his cock, still and taught and painfully on edge before a well timed stroke of Rick's hand had him shooting all over Rick's belly with a breathy cry of release.

It was sinfully gorgeous, and Rick couldn't think of anything more gorgeous than Morty's eyes as he took hold of the boy's hips once more and pounded up into him. Morty's muscles were fluttering around him, gripping him tight and spurring him on, and Rick came with a howl not two minutes later, shooting deep into Morty's body.

Morty immediately collapsed on top of him, their sweat slicked skin and the cooling ejaculate between their bodies acting as cheap glue, but Rick didn’t give a fuck. Months of work completed, his objective fulfilled, and Morty was sated and fucked out on top of him. It was exactly what he wanted, minus one teenie tiny detail. One Rick had every intention of adding to the mix.

"Baby?"

Morty looked up at him, his gassy eyes far away and zoned out as he muttered a groggy, "Yeah, Rick?"

The sound of his name in that fucked out voice made Rick's spent dick twitch inside of his grandson and Morty had just enough energy to look horrified at the prospect of round two. Rick just laughed and gently pulled out with a hiss, a smug grin adoring his face and making him look mischievous as he grabbed Morty's ass and squeezed.

"Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Morty."

 

* * *

  
  


Laying beside Rick after their third and final round, Morty stared down at the older man while he slept. Somehow, even in sleep, Rick didn't look peaceful. He looked like he was still scheming, his brow furrowed in a look of concentration, and Morty idly wondered what he was dreaming about. Was he taking over some galaxy? Robbing a rich kingdom? Fucking up the Citadel?

Or maybe, just maybe, was he dreaming up more ways to bend Morty to his will. 

The teen grimaced, though not necessarily in distaste, and continued to stare at Rick's sleeping face as he toyed with the older man's chest hair. 

In truth, Morty felt like an idiot for not realizing what was going on sooner. Despite the fact that, before the dreams, he'd never once thought about Rick in a sexual manner, it still took the acid trip of a lifetime for him to finally piece together Rick's manipulations and come to the conclusion that he hadn't developed a sexual interest in his grandpa at random. It wouldn't have been all that surprising, really. Morty knew he didn't have as many sexual hangups as he probably should've and that his lecherous imagination tended to drag him down quite a few fucked up rabbit holes, but the dreams had been relentless. 

The first one made sense. 

Trapped in the chemical locker in a dangerous situation, pressed all the way up against Rick and forced to be silent with Rick's hand covering his mouth — it was a recipe for disaster. Morty had a feeling his subconscious would've betrayed him on that front with or without Rick's intervention, but the dreams that followed? They were a mystery. 

He'd been plagued by them constantly. He couldn't do anything without dreaming of Rick fucking him in some way or another and, even though it hadn't made all that much sense, he hadn't questioned it at all. Morty just figured that he was more fucked up than he originally thought and that maybe he'd been feeling that way towards Rick for much longer than he realized. He  _ was _ rather oblivious sometimes, especially where social cues and his own feelings were concerned, so it wouldn't have been much of a shock to him if he'd actually had a crush on Rick without knowing. 

But this... This made much more sense. 

Morty still wasn't exactly sure how he'd come to the conclusion that the whole thing was one big setup, but Morty knew he wasn't wrong. After the horrific incident with the mushrooms and the drug fueled mindfuck that followed, Morty couldn't see it any other way. The moment he'd opened his eyes and looked at Rick, he  _ knew. _ He knew the old fuck was gaslighting him and that he'd been the source of his dreams. And when Rick conjured up the next dream, putting him right back on the examination table from before and sucking his dick like it was going out of style, Morty fell even deeper into certainty. 

He wouldn't have dreamed about that moment being sexual. It still wasn't sexual for him, and probably never would be, but it had been for Rick. He'd seen it in his grandpa's eyes, both when it happened and when he dreamed about it later on, and that'd been all the confirmation he needed to solidify his belief that Rick was orchestrating his crush. 

But the evidence hadn't stopped there. 

Once Morty was able to see Rick's manipulations for what they were, he felt like the biggest idiot in the galaxy. He didn't understand how he could've missed something so obvious. The evidence just kept piling up, getting bigger and more profound around every corner, and by the time he finally approached Rick on his own, he'd been certain that he wasn't, in any way, mistaken. 

Morty frowned a little and brushed his thumb back and forth over Rick's nipple, watching his grandpa murmur in his sleep as the small peek hardened under his touch. 

The only time since waking up on the examination table that he'd felt the slightest doubt was when he approached Rick on his own and the older man shot him down. Morty still didn't really understand that. He wasn't sure if Rick was just prolonging the inevitable or if he'd cultivated a crush without having any intention of seeing it through, but Morty knew it'd caught him off guard. It still did when he thought about it. He had no idea why Rick had shot him down then, not if his goal was to fuck him right from the start, but Morty wasn't disappointed by the events that'd followed. 

It took him actively trying to seduce Rick for Morty to realize that, despite all signs pointing otherwise, he  _ did _ want that. He wanted a sexual relationship with Rick, not just a quick fuck to get the man to stop sending him dreams. He legitimately wanted Rick, whether because he'd unknowingly wanted him from the start or because he'd become enamored with the concept over time, and that just pushed things even further. 

Part of it was a game, annoying Rick with his advances simply because the man was a dick for what he'd done and he deserved it, but that wasn't all it was. Morty  _ liked _ pursuing Rick. He liked the flush of power that warned his belly when Rick started to give in more and more, and in the end, Morty had no idea which dreams were his own and which were provided by Rick. It was a messy, fucked up jumble of need and desire, but after dreaming about Rick saying he loved him, Morty knew without a doubt that his crush was no longer fabricated. He'd fallen for it, hard and fast, and now it was real. 

By the time Rick apologized — and Morty still had no idea whether  _ that _ was real or not — he'd been desperate for Rick to cave. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the idea that he'd been wrong somehow and the psychedelic epiphany he had was inaccurate. He needed Rick to feel the same, and when he confessed his feelings and Rick responded to them, Morty instantly forgave him for all the fucked up shit he'd done leading up to that moment. 

Rick hadn't left him hanging. He'd kissed him and touched him and ravished him beyond anything Morty had previously imagined, three times over, and Morty couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Even though he had every right to be. 

It was who Rick was, and Morty knew that. Rick was a manipulative dick that'd do anything to get what he wanted and, if Morty was being truly honest with himself, he was somewhat flattered that Rick had gone to such lengths just to have him. It felt good, to be wanted so deeply by such a powerful person, and Morty couldn't help but smile as he snuggled in closer to his partner, his heart going a mile a minute as Rick gave him a possessive, sleepy little squeeze. 

It was fucked up. Them and the situation both, but Morty wasn't surprised. Or put off. They'd always been fucked up in one way or another. 

Morty laughed quietly to himself and dipped his head to nuzzle Rick, just as fond as ever. 

His grandpa was an idiot. The old man just couldn't get it through his head that Morty had grown up. He couldn't seem to grasp the idea that, after three years of adventures, Morty had learned at least some of his tricks and adapted them to his own needs. Rick couldn't see that he wasn't totally helpless. He simply couldn't fathom Morty figuring out his plans on his own and, even though that assessment was at least partially true considering it took an acid trip just to piece it all together, Rick couldn't grasp the idea that his derpy little sidekick wasn't as stupid as he thought and, because of that, he was blind to the fact that his own methods had been used against him.

Unlike Rick, though, Morty didn't feel the need to flaunt his newfound talents. They were for him and his benefit. The less Rick knew, the better. And it wasn't like he was a genius or anything. Rick would certainly manage to deceive him quite a few more times before he became more savvy to the older man's game but, as long as he got something out of it, Morty wasn't all that opposed. 

It was just a game, after all. And when Morty laid his cheek on Rick's shoulder and started to doze beside him, he decided that, this time, they could both be winners. 


End file.
